


If I Apologised

by caitastrophe8499



Category: Mirrormask (2005)
Genre: Dark, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 104,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6541633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitastrophe8499/pseuds/caitastrophe8499
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The happy ending doesn't last after Helena returned home. Things aren't all well in the MirrorWorld and Helena is turned away by the person she trusted most. Things are never what they seem in a place that reflects things that don't even exist. This story picks up a little before the movie ends. It is rated M for content, language, violence, and situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I apologised

**Author's Note:**

> It started out as a three chapter character analysis of Valentine. Safe to say, this isn't going to be three chapters.
> 
> Rated M for violence, scary scenes, and genuinely dark material. But I'm a romantic and this will end in a happy way or I will continue to write until it does.
> 
> I do not own the MirrorMask, their characters, settings, or anything else of value. Please don't ask again. It just makes me sad inside.
> 
> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy. I don't own those either.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Or are at least interested.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Helena flopped onto her bed, utterly exhausted. The past three days at home had been some of the longest she'd ever had. She'd spent her first day back from the Mirrorworld at her mother's side, even though she slept most of the time. Her mother was recovering well, and Helena had gone and said all of her apologies the second day after she'd woken up. They had cried together, and Helena had realized what was the most important thing in her life wasn't where she was – the circus, the Mirrorworld, real life. It was who she was with that mattered. Now that her mother was on the mend, Helena's father had returned to the troupe to tell them the circus was back on. Her mom would have to stay behind for this first leg of the trip, but the circus would start moving again. Helena had offered to stay with her for a while. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling and recalling the conversation she'd had with her father last night.

_"You've got other jugglers, Dad. I think one of us should stay with Mum and we both know it can't be you."_

_"I should stay," he said. He was torn, between his love and the people who relied on him to take care of them._

_"She'll be cross if you do. The circus would fall apart without you," Helena smiled. "I can stay."_

_"Are you sure, Bambino?"_

_She hugged her father, "I want to. I really do."_

Helena smiled, recalling the catastrophe of her father trying to pack for the circus circuit without her mother there to help him remember what he needed. Near the end, Nan and she were just sitting on the couch and watching the show as her father ran around like a chicken with his head cut off.

Helena smiled and shifted her head on the pillow, a hard object making her adjust her head again. She wouldn't admit that part of her motivation to stay behind was entirely selfish. She needed to be near her mum, of course. But she also had some unfinished business to take care of. The MirrorMask hidden under her pillow had reinforced the fact that it hadn't been a dream. That everything had actually happened. She had to get back, to return the Mask, to see Valentine. He hadn't been a dream, after all. Helena smiled to herself and reached under the pillow to trace the hard edges of the mask. Everything had been real.

Tonight, with Dad at the circus getting everyone packed up and ready to leave early in the morning and Mum still in hospital, it was the perfect night. Helena sat up and listened at the door. Nan had toddled off to bed about an hour ago, which meant she was probably asleep by now. Helena grabbed her backpack and slipped the MirrorMask into it. She was heading towards the door when she paused and glanced at her feet. She went back into her closet and put on proper shoes, without bunnies. She put the backpack on and slipped out of her bedroom. Helena hesitated in the hall then snuck out of the apartment, up to the roof. She'd come out through his Tower, hopefully she'd land back in it.

Helena took a breath and grabbed onto the Mask with both hands. She didn't want to entertain the thought that it wouldn't work. So she didn't hesitate. She placed her face against the glass. Everything was very cold and she couldn't breathe, but before she could panic it was over and the feeling rushed back into her body. Helena took off the mask and looked around to find herself in Valentine's Tower.

"Valentine?" she shouted, feeling a little foolish. She put the Mask into the backpack she brought and walked around the floor. There wasn't any answer, so she went to the front door.

It opened up just outside the gates of the City of Light. Helena grinned too see people returning rather than leaving and parts of the City being rebuilt after the shadows. She joined the crowd, searching for a billowing white robe.

She was heading in the general direction of the Queen of Light's castle. If she didn't find Valentine before then, she'd return the Mask to her Majesty before resuming her search. She'd gone a few blocks before realizing she was very turned around. She looked back, trying to find Valentine's Tower to give her some idea of what direction she was heading in.

The spire rose up, catching her eye a little more to the right than she would like. As she looked at it, she saw a figure pass by one of the upper windows. She must've just missed him. It was only the decision of a second to turn around and job back towards the Tower.

She'd almost reached the City limits when she saw a white robe whip around a corner. She followed it, recognizing that spikey hair anywhere. He had stopped at a booth, flipping a coin around his fingers as he looked at the food…or something like it…that lay in the buckets.

He had yet to see her, so she grinned at the chance to surprise him. She took off running, and he turned at the last second, allowing her to throw her arms around his waist. "Valentine!"

She heard the coin hit the ground as he breathed out sharply and grabbed her shoulders to pull her back and look at her, "You're here."

"Of course I'm here," she laughed. "You didn't think I'd forget you, did you?" She wished she could see his eyes; though she knew he was staring at her, she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"I thought…" he shook his head.

Something felt off so she tried to fix it. "Besides, somehow this came through with me." She opened up her bag and revealed the MirrorMask. "It belongs with the White Queen."

Valentine dropped his hands off of her shoulders. "Of course. Right."

He rubbed his wrist absentmindedly and she cocked her head at him, "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem…I don't know." She forced a smile, "Did you have another fight with your Tower?"

"No."

"…what are you doing out here?" she tried.

He looked around and grabbed his coin just before a sphinx got to it. "I was shopping. You see, some people have to eat."

"I can help you carry your stuff back."

He hesitated and avoided her eyes as he straightened. "If you insist."

"I do." She smiled at him and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

"You're a stubborn, disgusting girl. You went home and you still couldn't find yourself a proper face?" he asked her.

Helena stuck out her tongue, feeling more at ease with him now. He shuddered and looked down at her feet. "At least you finally found shoes that weren't monstrous, torture devices."

She grinned, glad she took that extra second to change them

Valentine handed her a basket, "Take this, will you?"

She did and he loaded it up with round, blue things and lumpy, yellow things. They smelled like lemons and raisins, but she would bet her life they didn't take anything like them.

"What are these?" she asked him as they moved from cart to cart.

"Well, these are palimpuffs. And those yellowish ones are apostrophels."

She stared at the back of his head in disbelief as he kept going.

"Then we've got the commaquats and exclamaturnips."

"You're making these up," she told him, laughing.

"You can't expect me to know the names of everything," he said, taking a big bite of one of them.

"But you eat it without knowing what it is?" she asked him.

"I get hungry."

"You sound like a sphinx, 'Hungry, hungry'," she imitated.

He shuddered again, "Must you do that?"

"Hungry," she said again.

Valentine snatched up a small, purple, diamond shape and popped it into her mouth to keep her quiet. "Chew on that, Helena-na."

She did, and though it had the consistency of tapioca pudding, it tasted like lemon meringue. "Mmm," she managed through her mouthful.

Valentine grinned at her, "Knew something would get you to shut up."

She swallowed and asked, "So you've been well since I left?"

His grin faded and he turned back to his shopping. "Of course. I've got me Tower back. I've got money enough for food. It's a good day to be me."

She smiled though he wasn't looking at her, "Isn't it always a good day to be a very important man?"

"Yes, it is, maskless girl."

Helena grinned and bumped her hip into him. He smirked and tossed a ball that she didn't know he had. She only had one hand free because of the basket, so she grabbed it and tossed it back. He caught it and suddenly there were three balls in the air that he juggled as they walked. Helena looked in the basket and found a…a commaquat and tossed it into his loop.

"Oi!" he shouted, catching the rhythm without any difficulty at all, despite his protest.

Helena giggled and grabbed another one to throw in. Valentine stopped, catching one commaquat after another until he had ten in the air at once. He was smirking, his talent drawing spectators to crowd around him. He glanced at her and Helena dropped the basket in time to catch the commaquat he threw at her. Soon they were juggling in unison and coins were being dropped into the basket by Helena's feet.

She grinned through the juggling at Valentine. He had to be the best jugglers she'd ever met in her life. She was managing, but barely. He wasn't even breaking a sweat. He could probably handle another five, at least.

He met her eyes and smiled. And then he jerked like he'd been burnt, missing the catch.

The balls and commaquats tumbled to the ground, except for the ones Helena managed to catch. The crowd around them clapped and then moved away, a few more coins dropping into their basket before they dissipated.

"Butterfingers," she said with a smile, picking up the rest of the fruit.

Valentine was frowning, rubbing his wrist. He didn't even crack a smile at her as he gathered up the fruit and tossed it into the basket with accuracy.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, reaching out to touch his arm.

He sat back out of her reach, "I've…I've gotta head back to my Tower."

He tried to pick up the basket, but she snatched it up. "I'll help."

"You don't have to."

She shrugged, "I'd like to." If he was hurt, she wasn't going to just send him off alone.

They started back, the coins jangling at the bottom of the basket among the food Valentine had put there. They'd reached the city gates and he took the basket from her. "I've got it from here."

"Don't be silly. I came in through the Tower."

"What?" He stopped and faced her. "You did what?"

"I'm sorry. I came in through the window I left from. I didn't know if it would work, but it did."

"You were there? And you…you didn't…"

She stared at him, confused. "I came out and looked for you."

Valentine looked back at his Tower, "She let you out?"

She laughed a little, "Why would your Tower keep me from leaving? I never upset it."

"Right. That was me," he said, shaking his head and starting to walk again. "You sure you want to leave from my Tower again?"

"Of course, that's where my room was."

They reached his Tower and Valentine pushed open the door. He looked around like he hadn't seen the inside of it before. Like he was looking for something.

"Is there more than the City of Light?" Helena asked as Valentine carried the basket into what appeared to be a kitchen.

"What do you mean?" he asked her, sounded distracted as he put things away. It was odd. The commaquats went in a bowl. The exclamaturnips went into a basket that hung by a window. And the apostrophels and palimpuffs both went into cupboards, but on different shelves. It was like the fruit needed to be segregated.

"Is there more to this world than the City of Light and the Land of Shadows?"

"Sure. Everything in between. The Murky Mines, the Foggy Forest, the Clouded Castle, the Misty Mines."

"You said Mines twice."

"I might be making them up."

Helena laughed. "I'd like to see it all. When I come back next, maybe you could take me to see some of them?"

"That's not a good idea," he said.

"Why not?"

"Some of those places are really dangerous. And when I say really dangerous, I only mean wildly, definitely, everything will kill us dangerous," he said.

She grinned. "It'll be fun."

"No, it wouldn't," he retorted, shaking his head and moving the basket into a cabinet. "It'd be the opposite of fun. Opposite of mildly entertaining. Opposite of something that I would do when I was bored out of my mask, and I can promise you that I am very often that bored and still don't go to those places."

"I can't wait to see her Majesty again," Helena said, looking through some of his other cupboards. "After that, we could do another little show? Get you some more money so we can go out and do something next time I come. I want to see everything about this place. I mean…I drew this place, but I don't know it. I don't know how it works. If I were to draw you or your Tower again, but differently, would you change? Or would the drawing change? What if I added a new place, would it just shove its way in between something else? I want to learn about-"

"Maybe you should just go home," he said suddenly.

She froze, kneeling on the ground, her nose in one of the cupboards, "What?"

"Go. Home." His voice was harder and much colder than it had been two seconds ago.

Her heart clenched as she stood up, "But, I thought…I mean, we had…I thought that you…"

"What?" he asked. His face, what she could see, was blank. His arms were crossed in front of him as he watched her.

Helena swallowed, "I thought you missed me like I missed you."

He tilted his head at her. "Valentine's are perfect the way they are. They don't need another person. Especially not another Creator-child-trouble-maker person."

"Oh," she answered, feeling about two inches tall.

"It's nothing personal. Things were just better before you showed up here," he told her, looking out over his Tower.

"Of course," her voice sounded dull even to her own eras.

"You don't belong here."

She knew she was about to start crying and she didn't want him to see that. She didn't want him to see that he'd hurt her as much as he had. "Then I should get going."

"Good idea."

Helena swallowed hard against the little sob that built up in her throat. Even if he didn't care about her like she thought she did for him, she at least believed they were friends. They had juggled together just minutes ago. He'd smiled like he enjoyed having her around. She looked out the window and saw her room. The place she was supposed to belong. Valentine wasn't even looking at her as she took out the MirrorMask. "Will you return this to the Queen after I've gone?"

He sighed, "I suppose so."

"Okay. Well, goodbye, then." Helena looked at him, but Valentine didn't even glance at her.

"So long."

His apathy irked her into grabbing his arm. He winced, flinching away, though not out of her grasp. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked. "I thought we were friends."

He shrugged off her hand, "Valentines don't have friends."

"You could," she said quietly.

"If I wanted. Which, in fact, I don't."

Helena felt her anger warring with her hurt to make her voice short, "Fine. Well, I'll miss you, Valentine."

He didn't say anything, but at least this time he was looking at her.

She shook her head and put the MirrorMask on, pressing her face to the window.

He never said a word and then she was gone. She landed in her room this time, no MirrorMask on her face. Helena looked back at the pictures on her wall and mirror, seeing a spikey haired man with a stripe down his face hanging on the mirror frame. He was smirking, laughing at her. There was no way to go back now, even if she wanted. Even if she _was_ wanted. Which she wasn't, as she'd been so coldly informed. Fine. He didn't want to see her, she didn't want to see him. "Goodbye," she told the sketch.

Despite her anger and her resolve, Helena's heart hitched and she walked out of her room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Valentine stared at the place Helena disappeared. "Goodbye."

"Good riddance," a harsh voice echoed through his Tower.

He swallowed and continued to look at the window. "I did what you asked. Do what you promised."

He heard a sigh and an image appeared in the window. He assumed it was Helena's room. The girl in question was nowhere in sight. Something green and bright lay on the bed. Her see-an-enemy. Too bad it hadn't seen this. A snap of fingers and three animatronic spiders crawled out from beneath the bed, behind the dresser and from within the closet. Three metallic mercenaries. Three reasons for him to lie.

"The other part of our deal first, Val."

He bent down and picked up the MirrorMask, handing it to the Princess. "Done. Deal fulfilled. Now do it."

The spiders shuddered on the ground, shattering into pieces before disintegrating and blowing away. Valentine felt a weight lifted off his shoulders even as a hand descended on it. "Well done."

"Well, now that that's finished, I should let you get to taking over the world. I'll show you the door."

"You know, I don't think I'm quite done with you yet, Val."

He hated that nickname. "I haven't got anything else. No jewels. No masks, mirror or otherwise. I've got some fresh apostrophels in the kitchen if you'd like, but that's about it."

"Yes, but as you keep saying, you're a very important man. I could use that."

Valentine swallowed, "I'm not important. Not really. More of a nobody. Even go as far to say I'm a negative, I'm so unimportant. I-"

"Stop babbling," she ordered.

He bit his cheek to keep from going on.

"Hold out your wrist."

"I'd really rather not if it's all the-"

"Do it!" she shouted, her voice echoing around his Tower and the dark corners getting darker.

He did and tried not to flinch when she pulled up his wrist to reveal the spider that had been latched there. Lucky his robe was so thick or Helena might have seen the blood from the puncture marks made by the spider's legs. It tightened as he stared at it. The Princess grinned and ran her fingers over the spider's back. "Perfect."

"I'm not really fond of jewelry." Especially not ones designed to kill him and anyone around him if he were to have betrayed the Princess. He actively tried to avoid those.

"Quiet."

"Why do you need this on me now? She's never coming back." He hoped she didn't. Well, mostly. If she did show up, he hoped it was to rescue him. Not that he needed rescuing. Not a lot, at least. Just maybe a little this time. Turnabout and all, since he saved her first.

The Princess laughed, "Yes, you did a number on her. Did you her starting to tear up? Pathetic." She dropped his arm and his sleeve fell back down.

He tried not to think about that. Tried not to think about how it was his fault she looked like that, "So why do you need me?"

"I get bored. And you're an entertainer, aren't you?"

"I dabble in entertaining, but I've only got a few tricks really."

The Princess smirked and he looked away. He didn't like the look of that smile. He didn't like the way her face was Helena's but not. Dark, dead eyes where Helena's danced and lit up. Harsh lines where Helena's was forgiving. Cold and frozen where Helena's was warm and full of movement.

Funny how at first he had thought her maskless face was disgusting. Now, faced with a girl whose face was exactly like a mask, Valentine found himself preferring his other option.

"I think," the Princess said, her fingers tight on his shoulder, "I could teach you a few new tricks."

She held up the mask and Valentine saw her face reflected dozens of times, none of them looking any friendlier. His own face was reflected just behind hers and he thought it seemed a little darker. He swallowed and looked back to where Helena's room was fading away. He'd done what he had to. It just didn't make him feel any better.

The Princess grinned at her reflection. "Well, Val. Shall we begin?"


	2. It wouldn't make it all unhappen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Princess is very dark here. But she did try to burn the entire MirrorWorld just so she could get her way. A world that included her mother. She didn't care as long as she got what she wanted.
> 
> I hope this doesn't disappoint.
> 
> I'm a total romantic. But this story is an utter romance. Which means there are lots of dark parts and villains to overcome. This story will eventually have a happy ending (probably). And more Helena. But right now it's all about Valentine. And let's be honest; who doesn't love themselves a little Valentine?
> 
> MirrorMask doesn't belong to me. I'm just playing.
> 
> Chapter titles belong to "If I Apologised" by Ballamy, Gaiman, and McKean.

His first year in the City of Shadows was bad.

Valentine'd had bad years before this. The year of perpetual winter. The year his mother returned him to the no one he was bought from. The year he lost a fish in his Tower and couldn't remember where.

This was worse. Worser. Worst.

It had started out bad, what with Helena returning and then vanishing once more. Permanently. Because of him. That was bad. Very bad.

He hadn't thought it was possible, but it got worse after that.

She had him bring his Tower to the outskirts of the Shadow Kingdom. Then he was told to stay, like a dog. She walked out and vanished into the dark, heading towards her mother's castle with the MirrorMask in her hands.

He thought about leaving a thousand times in those two days. But every time he did, he remembered the spider on his wrist. The one that would kill him when she found out he disobeyed. The one that would kill anyone around him if he tried to find someone to help him. Valentine thought about it, but never moved.

He was scared of the Princess. He was just more scared of dying.

On the morning of the second day, Valentine was driven from his bed by the most horrible screams he'd ever heard. He went to the window and gaped to see thousands and thousands of birds circling where the Shadow Castle was.

He watched the birds circle higher and higher until, with a final, ear-pressing screech, they all exploded. Shreds of shadows wafted down, lost among the branches of the trees.

When the Princess returned that afternoon, she was flanked by her mother's guards. Only they weren't obeying her mother.

"What did you do?" Valentine asked her as she entered his Tower.

"Asserted myself," she said.

"And the Queen?" he asked, earning glares from the guards.

"She was persuaded to step down," she said, shutting the door behind her. "Take us to the castle."

The Tower did as it was ordered, both it and Valentine knowing they didn't have a choice. They stopped in the courtyard and Valentine was painfully reminded about how much he hated the black, uneven castle.

"Come on," she said, leaving the Tower. Valentine knew better than to dawdle. He rested his hand on the door jamb for a minute before stepping out. Two guards stayed at the door, effectively smothering any inklings of sneaking away.

The Princess led the way inside. Valentine, following her and flanked by guards, tried to keep track of where the front door was, but the hallways wound and twisted until he barely knew which way was up. The Princess never seemed to falter, but then again she was raised here. She led the way to a set of double doors and pushed them open to reveal the throne room.

Valentine felt the bile rise in his throat at the scene in front of him. The throne was spattered with black ichor and feathers. What remained of the Queen was lying partway on the throne and the floor, as if she'd slipped out of it. Her chest and stomach were bowed out, as if something had been expelled with enough force to rip her open. Her fingers still clutched a cup. Around her, guards lay in their armor, unmoving. Valentine stared at them, realizing that the seams of their armor had been sealed shut. Even their visors. They would have suffocated. Other people, courtiers mostly, were scattered around the room. Some of the unmoving, some of them cowering on the floor, obviously too scared to run. There were about fifty people in the room and a good thirty of them were already dead.

Valentine watch the Princess walk through the massacre, a faint smile on her face. She _enjoyed_ this. He felt sick just looking at her.

The Princess smiled at the body of her mother, "Anyone for seconds?"

"You did this?" Valentine asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course." She walked over to one of the guards, nudging him with a toe.

"She was your mother."

"She was in my way. And she was weak." The Princess turned to look at him. "She could have taken this world from the Queen of Light. Instead, she concerned herself with the balance. I'm going to tip the scales."

"By murdering people?"

She tilted her head, "How else did you think world domination was going to go?"

Turning back towards the guard, the Princess leaned over his sealed visor and with a wave of her hand, unsealed it. She slid it open, revealing a discolored face and bulging blue eyes. Valentine wanted to look away in disgust, but then the Princess breathed out, a black cloud expelling from her lips to slide into the nose, eyes and mouth of the dead guard. She sat back on her heels as his body convulsed. It was like a nightmare as the guard sat up slowly. His eyes were now black and his jaw hung open. The Princess slid his visor back down and sealed it again. The guard stood up and went to what must have been his old position at the side of the throne. The Princess went to the other thirty-some-odd bodies and did the same to them, waking the dead men up to stand guard again.

She pointed at two of them, "Remove the late Queen."

They shuffled over to the throne, picking up the body with no dignity or emotion and dragging her out of the room, leaving a tarry, black smear in her wake.

"If there are any questions as to how further betrayals will be handled, ask now," the Princess said, walking up to stand on the dais where her mother reigned not twenty minutes ago.

The dead guards, the living guards, the courtiers that hadn't run or been cut down - none of them made a sound.

"I am now your Queen. Refer to me as such if you must address me." She adjusted her skirts so as to reveal the MirrorMask on her hip.

Not a whisper from anyone.

"I advise against trying to leave the Land of Shadows or contacting anyone outside of these walls," she said. "I will consider it a personal slight..."

Valentine saw one of the guards swallow nervously.

"..and will return the slight onto your family and friends." She looked around at everyone in the room. "Am I clear?"

There was a quiet murmur of assent.

"Excellent. Guards, take Val to his rooms. Remain there and make sure he doesn't go wandering. The rest of you, come with me. We'll do a sweep through the castle and hunt down anyone who would plot against my reign."

Valentine was pushed to turn around and walk out of the hall. He didn't bother trying to figure out which way they were taking him. He just wanted out of that room. None of the dead guards accompanied him, for which he was grateful.

They went up three flights of winding stairs before the guards stopped at a room. They opened the door, shoved him inside and closed it behind him. There was no sound of a lock. Valentine waited a moment and then opened it. The guards outside his door turned and stared at him.

"Just checking," Valentine said.

The guards stared at him.

He slowly shut the door and stepped away from it.

So this was his cell.

Not exactly as important as he would have liked, but it was better than other cells he'd been in. There was a tiny window, with bars so close that he couldn't fit his arm through, but allowed for some fresh air to permeate the room. A small cot was shoved into one of the corners and a chest too heavy for him to move rested against the wall. There was a pillow on the bed and blankets folded up at the end of it. The mattress looked to be mostly clean. He rubbed at the spider absently, rolling his eyes as it hissed.

Valentine sat down on the bed. So here he was. A prisoner of the Princess-turned-Queen. He was under guard here. His Tower guarded outside. Dead-but-not guards roaming the halls. The Queen murdered by her daughter. Now said daughter was on a mission to take over the entire world. Things were definitely not looking good. In fact, he could probably call this as bad as he'd even had it. He couldn't imagine things getting wors-

Someone screamed outside his door and Valentine jumped up, staring at the solid wood that separated him from the hall. They screamed again and the sound of metal came pounded down the halls in a regulated fashion.

The guards were hunting.

Valentine jumped as someone else joined the first screamer. He retreated to the window of his room and started to hum. First quietly, and then louder, trying to drown out the screaming. More and more joined in, cornered out in front of his door. He wondered if she had planned it that way. Made it so he would hear every scream as it was suddenly cut off. So that he could smell the metallic smell that kept growing stronger.

He hummed louder, finally resorting to singing whatever inane song that had popped into his head in an attempt to pretend he didn't know what was happening.

He took out his set of juggling balls, concentrating on them and the song, blocking out everything else as best he could.

"...don't let them see you're afraid," he hummed, eyes on the spheres.

It was a long time before it was quiet enough for him to go to sleep.

* * *

It was a few days after that before the Princess herself came to his room. He was just glad he'd gotten up and dressed before she opened the door. He looked over, but didn't bother to get up off his bed. She was flanked by two of the dead guards. He couldn't see any red stains in the hall beyond her, but he knew they had been there.

"Val."

"Princess."

One of his guards, a live one, corrected him, "The Queen, prisoner."

"Princess is fine," she told them. "Let's go for a walk."

"No thanks. I burn," he said.

"I'm not asking."

He swallowed and stood up. The Princess led the way out of his room. It was only when she had gotten down a flight of stairs that he realized the guards weren't with them. He glanced behind him, wondering if maybe he could get-

"You'll be lost in a second. And then I'd have to kill you," the Princess commented without looking back.

"Like you did half the castle already?" he asked. It was under his breath, but since there wasn't another living person in the halls he may as well have shouted it.

She glanced over her shoulder, "Isn't it much better this way? Now, I can trust everyone within these walls. With one exception." The Princess pushed open the door to a room.

There was a glass pane in front of them, but it didn't reveal the outside. Just another small room lined with boxes around a small platform. A door opened in the room and a courtier was shoved in, his quills shaking in terror.

"This is a dissenter," the Princess said, sounding at ease. "I've killed most of others, but I think he can be salvaged."

Valentine watched as the door was shut. The courtier wandered over to the platform, looking around. Faint music started and the courtier seemed to calm down, until his eyes drifted half closed. The boxes opened up and these...robots came out of them, brushing the courtier's quills and face, all the while singing.

"What are they doing?" he asked, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as he was.

"You could call it re-teaching him. This is the Choir. They're emptying him of the kinds of thoughts I don't want and filling him up with the things I do."

It was horrifically fascinating. When the song ended, the courtier was dressed all in black and his eyes were dark as pitch. The robots - the Choir - returned to their boxes and the music vanished as the courtier turned to face them. He looked directly at the Princess and bowed before drifting out the door.

"That's what the Queen did to Helena," Valentine thought aloud.

The Princess turned on him slowly and Valentine realized his mistakes.

She was silent for so long that he was certain she was going to have him killed. Or worse, put in that little room and unmade. He waited for the word.

"I like you, Val. I'd rather not turn you into a mindless shadow like everyone else," she said. She looked out the window. "But that doesn't mean I won't."

He swallowed, "Understood."

"Do you?"

He decided silence was his better choice.

The Princess stared at him. "Good. Go."

He walked out of the room, only to find himself face to face with the courtier he'd just watched be emptied. He led Valentine back to his room in utter silence. He thought about running again, but there were silent guards in nearly every corridor. And he'd heard the sounds of people who'd tried to run the other night. There was also the ever present threat of the spider on his wrist, and now the Choir. He didn't have a lot going for him in his life, but he really didn't want to die. The guards opened up his door and secured it behind him.

That night, he had nightmares of black eyes and singing boxes surrounding him.

* * *

He was exhausted the next morning when the Princess came into his room. She didn't waste time and began asking him about his adventure with Helena. He didn't say much.

"We talked to the Queen, found the Mask, and dragged you back. That's what happened."

"There's more to it."

"Ummmmmmm…"

The spider tightened as his 'mmm' continued longer than was proper. He winced. "No, that was it."

"Tell me the details."

"Well, we came up against sixteen…seventeen…some-teen sphinxes. They like books, did you know? And future-fruit tastes like palimpuffs and semicopples. And just a pinch of questiwis. With a dash of-"

"Enough," she hissed. "You're wasting my time. Guards."

They hoisted him up off his bed, dragged him to his feet and marched him out, following the wake of the Princess.

They led him upstairs, which was a direction he really hadn't been in. The hallways were quieter here. Not that any place was loud.

"In here," she ordered, turning into a side room.

Valentine was pushed into the room, stumbling a few paces. He looked around. It was dark, shadowed and close. He felt like he couldn't breathe. The air was too heavy and thick in his mouth. The Princess walked over to a desk and opened a drawer, taking a vial out of it and turning back to him.

She opened the vial and glanced at him, "Do you know what this is?"

"No. And I'm okay not knowing. Can't keep a secret, me."

"How about I just show you?" She tipped the vial and out poured black powder into her hand. She smiled and clenched her fist around it as she walked towards him. He hated her smile. It was fake and cold and not like a smile should be. Valentine tried to move back, but the guards held him fast. The Princess opened her palm and blew the powder into his face.

He tried not to breathe it in, but he had to breathe. It was a stupid, involuntary thing to do. Stupid lungs. He coughed, but his vision was already clouding.

"Killing me already?" he choked.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," she told him. "I just want a little chat, is all."

Valentine's eyes rolled up and though he saw the ground coming up to meet him, he never felt it.

* * *

When he woke up, he was on the floor of the dark room and his throat hurt like he hadn't shut up in hours. He coughed, his mouth feeling coated with dust.

"Get yourself a drink," a voice told him.

He looked around, sitting up slowly. The Princess sat in a chair, writing out something. He got to his feet, his head feeling musty. "What happened?"

"Well, Val. You spilled your story."

"I didn't…" he tried.

She turned in her chair, those dark eyes catching what little light there was and whisking it away. "Oh, but you did. And you've provided me with the most useful information."

He coughed again, shaking his head. "No."

"And now, I have a job for you."

"I'm not doing anything for you," Valentine choked out, spitting black phlegm onto her floor.

She wrinkled her nose at that. "You don't even know what I want you to do."

"Don't care. As my own manager, I advise myself against helping the enemy."

"Enemy? Oh, that hurts, Val." She stood up and walked over to him. "I want you to take your Tower, go to the City of Light and bring me back someone. I want-"

"No." He wasn't bringing her the Queen. Or the Prime Minister. Or anyone else she could use as leverage to take over the City. He wasn't a brave man, but he wouldn't hand over someone to a monster like-

"A Mrs. Bagwell."

He blinked. "Who?"

"Mrs. Bagwell. She gave you those lovely cakes. I want her. Bring her to me. Take your Tower to the City and bring her back to me."

Valentine frowned, "What do you want with her?"

"A chat."

He shook his head again. "No. I'm not doing that."

"Do it, Val."

"No!"

The guards he'd forgotten were there started towards him, but the Princess waved them off. "No. If he doesn't want to do it. He doesn't have to."

Valentine waited for the other proverbial shoe to drop.

"Take him back to his room."

"What?" he asked before he thought about it.

"Go back to your room. We're done for today."

As Valentine was led back to his room he thought he'd proven his point. He thought the worst was over.

He was wrong. Utterly and completely wrong. Always wrong. Just when he thought he couldn't be more wrong, he was. He knew it. But he kept thinking it wasn't possible.

Two days later, the Princess summoned him again. Back to the dark room. Her room, he'd finally realized. She barely glanced at him as he entered.

"Val. Thought about my job offer?" she asked him.

"I told you. No," he said firmly.

"I thought that would be your answer." She put down her pen and faced him, "Come with me."

She led him to a door, which led to stairs, which led up. And down. But they went up. Valentine heard the guards stop at the door, leaving him and the Princess to walk up alone. She kept them going up, until she stopped at another door. Pushing it open, a horrible noise filled the air. So much so that Valentine paused upon leaving the stairwell.

The Princes stepped out into the noise and smiled. Valentine shuddered at the smile, but stepped out all the same. He flinched as something nearly collided with him, but it flew off in another direction, grappling with a sticky black ooze on its face.

Valentine gaped at the air around this tower. It was filled with Monkeybirds, most of them already fallen victim to the black ooze that latched onto their faces. Those that hadn't been infected yet screamed and howled, trying to save their friends, escape the horror.

"You see," the Princess said, her voice coldly calm, "when you refused, I was disappointed, Val. I thought we had an understanding." Her voice was barely audible over the scream and cries around them.

He saw a group of dark Monkeybirds corner a smaller one, leaping on him and smothering his screams with shadows. "Stop this," he said.

"I didn't kill you. I offered you a job. I give you a room, food, drink, clothes. I've been merciful. But I ask you to do one little job. One little old lady. Who you didn't even like in the first place! And you reward my hospitality with rudeness and refusals."

Two free Monkeybirds flew up, out of the horrific cloud of their brothers and sisters around the tower. He thought they'd get away. Then they screamed, dragged back down by shadowy tendrils that the Princess flicked up without a thought.

"Let them go," Valentine said. His voice shook, he wasn't proud of it.

"You hurt me, Val." The Princess looked at him. "Next time I ask you to do something, I want you to do it. Without the fighting. I hate it when we fight."

"Yes, okay, I'll do it. I'll get the Baglady. Just stop it," he pleaded. There was only one Monkeybird left.

"You see, I don't think you mean it. I think you're just saying what I want to hear."

He turned on her and shouted, "I said I'd do it!" He was past the point of caring about how angry she would get.

She grinned. "Good. I think you and I finally understand each other, Val. I'm glad."

He closed his eyes as the last Monkeybird was swarmed by the others. They calmed now that all of them were infected, hovering around the tower. He hadn't been able to save any of them.

"And, Val? Just to prove how serious I really am…"

He opened his eyes, the Princess's hands raised above her head. He glanced at the Monkeybirds around them.

"No. Plea-"

She threw her hands down and the Monkeybirds went with them. He almost cried out, but he bit his cheek and stared at her instead, trying not to flinch as wet thuds echoed up from the ground below.

The Princess brushed off her hands when it finally went silent. "Just so you know, there are a lot more people in the City of Light. I'm asking for one. You bring me one, and I'll spare the rest."

"For now."

She smirked. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Will you get me Mrs. Bagwell?"

"Yes."

"Will you refuse me again?"

Valentine didn't let his eyes waver to the ground. He knew the consequence if his answer wasn't the right one. "No."

"Good. Now get me what I want."

Valentine turned around and went back down the stairs. He hadn't been able to save the Monkeybirds. He wouldn't be able to save Mrs. Bagwell. But he could save part of the City, at least. That had to be worth something.

It wasn't hard getting into the City of Light. He was still a hero. And it took moments to find where Mrs. Bagwell lived. All he had to do then was pretend there was a wounded sphinx outside. She came out, he hustled her into his Tower. It was easy. She was old. Weak. He was young. Desperate. He pretended he couldn't hear her pleading, her begging for him to release her. He stared out his window as he brought her back to the City of Shadows. The scenery flew by him. He'd never tried jumping out of his Tower while it moved. He wondered if it would stop. He wondered if he cared.

He marched Mrs. Bagwell up to the Princess, who was waiting on the steps for him. The Monkeybirds still weren't cleaned away. Valentine tried not to look and Mrs. Bagwell didn't seem to understand what they were.

The Princess smirked as he walked up and let go of Mrs. Bagwell.

"Well done, Val. I'm proud of you," she said.

He walked past her without speaking, the guards starting to block his way.

"Let him go. He's done for now," the Princess told them over his shoulder. "Mrs. Bagwell. Pleasure to meet you. I'm the Princess of Shadows. I have a few questions for you."

Valentine went up the stairs, to his guarded cellroom. He shut the door behind him, starting to pace. He'd done what he had to do. In war there were casualties. Needs of the many. All for one and one for…no, wait, wrong thing. He pulled at his robe, his mask, his hands shaking. He couldn't stop. Couldn't hesitate to think because if he thought, he'd see the Monkeybirds. He'd see Mrs. Bagwell. He'd see Helena. No. He reached into his robe and took out a set of three juggling balls. Keep busy. Keep moving. Keep distracted. Just keep from going still. He got all three into the air for a few catches. His plan was working. He wasn't thinking. He was just juggling.

…and then one dropped.

He caught the other two, staring at the one on the ground as it rolled to bump against the wall.

Valentine backed up until he hit the stone and slid down it, the other two balls falling out of his grip and he grabbed the back of his head, tangling his fingers in his hair and pulling.

Letting his head hit his knees, Valentine stopped running and felt himself being dragged down.

A quiet chuckle made his head shoot up.

The Princess leaned against his door jamb, her arms crossed and an ugly smile on her face. She stared at him for a moment before pushing herself away from his door and walking off.

Valentine closed his eyes and his head fell back against the wall.

He had refused once.

The Monkeybirds paid the price.

He didn't refuse again.

* * *

Valentine could feel it growing. A shadow on his soul. _Her_ shadow.

He hated it and that made it grow more.

He couldn't juggle. Every time he tried, he'd drop one. So he stopped trying. He'd lie in his cell. He wouldn't get up. He'd just lie there, day after day.

And then he'd be summoned.

He'd be sent out to retrieve things. Books. A few sphinxes. A mirror. A window. He didn't know why. He didn't ask why. She never told him. He wasn't asked to bring back people, though. Not anymore. He'd do whatever dirty work needed doing and then she'd pat him on the head and let him return to his cell to be numb. To pretend to be numb. To fake it. Only to himself. No one else was fooled.

He only saw Mrs. Bagwell once. She looked at him as he passed her on the way to the Princess's room.

When he saw the black, dead eyes, he dropped his to the floor and didn't look up again until Mrs. Bagwell's unsteady footsteps faded away.

He walked into the dark room. He didn't say anything.

"Val, darling. I need you to get something for me."

He didn't ask what.

"I need a book."

He didn't ask which one.

She'd tell him.

And so it went on for a year.

And then Valentine woke up one morning and it was year two.


	3. Wouldn't make the darkness go away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles belong to "If I Apologised" by Ballamy, Gaiman, and McKean. I don't own MirrorMask.

The next year was infinitely better and decidedly worse than the year before.

It had started off with an errand gone wrong.

So far, he'd been able to get in and out of the City of Light without any problems. No one bothered him, since he was a very important man. No one suspected him because he'd saved the kingdom. No one noticed little things and nobodies going missing. So he was free to roam. Until he wasn't.

He stepped into the Library, barely looking at the Librarian. He browsed as always, slowly working his way towards his goal. He was heading to the East Wing, the fifteenth stack to the left, the second shelf from the bottom. A blue book, with green whorls on the front. Black edged pages. Almost as thick as his hand was wide. It didn't have title, but it showed a mirror on the front. All he had to do was grab the book and leave the Library. His Tower waited outside and-

THWAK!

"Oi!" he shouted, holding his head as something flew about it. "What gives?"

He caught sight of a red binding and snatched it out of the air, his juggling reflexes not quite atrophied yet. "You little bastard of a book," Valentine muttered, staring at the cover of the _A Really Useful Book_.

"What your problem?" he asked it.

The book flapped open, pinching his fingers in the process.

 _ **It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways**_.

"It's not my mind that's evil it's-"

"Valentine."

He turned on his heel and came face to face with the Queen of the City of Light.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing after only a momentary hesitation. He shoved the book into his pants pocket then tugged his sleeve over the spider. For the first time in a while he wished he still wore his robe.

"I have missed you, you've been in and out of the City faster than I can get a summons to you," she smiled at him.

It was odd, being smiled at and knowing that there wasn't a hidden motive behind the smile. She smiled at him because she felt the desire to smile.

"I'm sorry. I've been booked left and right. I'm a-"

"Very important man," she finished with a laugh. "Yes, you are."

The spider on his wrist tightened and Valentine covered it with his other hand. "Well, not as important as you, of course."

She walked over to him, "You are mistaken, Valentine. You are far more important than I am. And you're more important to far more important people."

He blinked. Did she know he worked for the Princess?

"How is Helena? I have missed her. I thought she would have returned before this."

Valentine swallowed. "So did I. But she belongs in her own world."

"I suppose. But I admit, I had thought…"

He waited, but she never finished her sentence. She shook her head with an embarrassed smile, "Ah, but they were just the thoughts of an old woman." The Queen looked at him.

The spider clenched hard around his wrist and Valentine flinched.

"Are you all right?" she asked him, concern etched on her face. She took a step nearer to him and the spider hissed. Valentine cried out as his tendons ground together, bending double and clutching his arm.

"Valentine?" she asked, touching his shoulder.

He stepped back, his sleeve slipping up and revealing the spider.

She glanced at it and then to his face, "Oh, no…"

He shoved past her and out of the Library, ignoring the calls of those behind him to come back, to stop, to surrender. He ran until he got to his Tower and then he flew far away, empty handed for the first time.

He landed outside the City of Shadow and the guards met him at his Tower door when he stepped out, the Princess nowhere in sight.

He knew that didn't bode well.

They led him up to the dark room, her room. Valentine stepped in and the doors were shut behind him.

"Val…where's my book?"

"I couldn't get it," Valentine said. "Things got complicated."

"Enlighten me."

"The Queen was there. I couldn't get it."

"You mean you let a little hitch in your plan get you all flustered that you couldn't grab the damn book and get out!" she screamed at him.

He'd been yelled at. Reprimanded. Shoved around by the guards. But for some reason, her voice got under his mask so well this time that he found himself yelling back at her.

"Well, it was either leave without the book or get caught!"

"And you just decided to abandon your task?" she snapped.

He glared at her. "Yeah. I did. And now they don't know what I was looking for, which I'm sure they would have been very interested in, don't you think?"

She bared her teeth at him, stepping around her desk to come toe to toe with him. He remembered the Monkeybirds, but he was so angry he found himself not caring. "You think you're so clever."

"I am a _very_ important man," he sneered.

"And now everyone knows you're a criminal. A very important criminal," she retorted.

He didn't let that faze him. It had only been a matter of time before someone figured out he was working for her. "If that'll be all?"

"Get out."

"My pleasure," he said, adding in a bow for emphasis.

The door slammed behind him and Valentine found a vindictive smile on his face. He managed to get under her skin. He chuckled and happened to glance in a mirror on his way back to his room, catching sight of his face, an ugly sneer on it that he never remembered wearing before. It was like the one the Princess always had on. She had twisted him so that…

 _ **It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways**_.

Valentine avoided his reflection from that day on.

* * *

He should have known that the Princess wouldn't let him have the last word for long. He was summoned to her rooms almost a month later. It was one of the longest periods of time he'd gone without being summoned. He half thought she'd just let him die of boredom. He wasn't so lucky. The only good thing is that he had enough time to hollow out a behind one of the flagstones of his room to hide _A Really Useful Book_. He didn't know why he was bothering to hide the hurtful bundle of lies, but he did it nonetheless. So when he was summoned, nothing was out of the ordinary.

He went into the Princess's room, stopping up short to see a mirror that was as tall as he was, and as wide as his arms spread open.

"You know, vanity isn't becoming," he said, determined to have the first word.

"Have your little jibes, Val," she retorted. "But it's a present for you."

Presents from evil shadow Princesses were never good things. "No thanks. It's not my birthday. Not that I know what my birthday is, but-"

"Take a peek," she interrupted. "You know you want to."

He wasn't tempted. But she'd only resort to force if he didn't do as she said. So he did as she ordered. He stared into the mirror, finding it vaguely familiar. There was a bright green thing on the bed that was most of the mirror's view. A girl sat on the edge of the bed, something held up to her ear that she was speaking into. He couldn't hear the words, but he saw her mouth moving. The girl moved the speaky thing to her other ear and glanced at the mirror. Valentine drew in a breath, recognizing the eyes and disgusting, wrong face.

"Helena," he breathed.

He'd barely thought about her. He hated to admit it, but he'd been more concerned about his own skin than someone he'd already gotten out of harm's way. Besides, if he thought too much about things he didn't, couldn't, wouldn't ever have, he'd just get that much more depressed. And he wasn't very pleased with being depressed. But seeing her…

It was definitely Helena. But a different Helena. An older Helena. She was taller, skinnier than she had been. Her hair was longer, hanging around her face and brushing her collar. But the smile was the same, her quick, sudden movements the same. It was her. More than a year after he sent her away and she was perfectly fine.

"That's right, Val. Your Helena. At home, and safe, just like we had agreed," the Princess said. "She has no idea why you did what you did, but she's recovering just fine, wouldn't you say?"

He didn't know where she was going with this and he didn't ask. She'd tell him. Especially if it was bad news. And if it was bad news about Helena, he needed to know.

Valentine glanced at the Princess, who seemed to be waiting for something. He turned his gaze back, watching Helena stand up after a while and put the thing she had been talking onto down. She grabbed a stretchy thing and pulled her hair up off her face. She picked up a set of juggling balls and started with easy exercises. Still, the familiar movements made Valentine's own fingers itch to juggle for the first time in a long time.

He wiped his hands on his robe, "Is there a point to this?"

"Enjoying yourself?" the Princess asked.

Valentine stared at her, "The point?"

"Ah, and here is the point," she said.

Valentine looked back at the mirror, seeing Helena had turned to the door that had opened and someone walked in.

"Oh, Val. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do," the Princess purred.

It was a man that walked into Helena's room. Boy, really. With blonde hair and blue eyes and a stupid moveable face. He watched as the man-boy shut the door behind him. Helena looked up when the door and her face lit up. She dropped her juggling and stepped into the man-boy's arms. She stretched up on her toes and the man-boy leaned down and-

Valentine blinked, well that was something he hadn't been expecting to see.

"Aww," the Princess said, "How disgustingly sweet. She's replaced you with a Val-look-alike."

He took offense to that. "That does not look anything like me."

"Why? He's too handsome? Happy? Perfect?" the Princess suggested. "Yeah, guess you're right."

Valentine glared at her, refusing to feel subpar to this boy-thing. "Are we done?"

"Of course," she smirked. "Guards, take Val and his present back to his room."

No, nonononono. He did NOT want that thing in his room. He did not want to see that- that horrible face that wasn't his, but kind of was, at all hours of the day.

He was led back to his room, trying to ignore the rattle of the mirror behind him. The Princes had insisted. They set it up in his room, taking up a giant part of his wall. The guards shut the door behind them, leaving him alone with the mirror. And Helena and the man-boy. Stupid man-boy. Ugly, stupid, man-boy. He fell onto his bed, his arms propping his head up. He kicked his robe down to the bottom of the bed. It was too…white. Too many pockets to hold things he didn't have any longer. That was the kind of robe for a man with important things and Towers and friends.

He wasn't that man anymore.

Valentine wasn't jealous. Valentine's didn't get jealous. He was concerned. He was her manager, after all. And here she was, kissing unsavory types. If he knew anyone he knew himself. And Helena could do better. Not much, but enough to matter.

Glancing over, he was relieved to see that they had stopped kissing. Right now, the boy was sitting on the bed and watching as Helena told a story that involved some very expansive gestures. He was smiling at her, obviously entertained.

Valentine watched her face. After so long with the Princess, he'd forgotten what Helena's face was really like. They were exactly the same, but Helena was so much… _more_.

She started laughing, not that he could hear it, and hopped on the bed next to the boy, leaning over him. Valentine turned onto his side, facing away from them. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

It was a lot more difficult to pretend to be okay, when he was faced with people who were even better than okay. Still, he kept lying to himself.

Just less successfully than usual.

* * *

"Val."

He looked up from his corner by the window, the only place he could sit and not see the mirror. The Princess stood at his door.

"Come with me."

"It's my day off," he told her. He didn't have those, but he said it anyway.

She crossed her arms, "I'm not sending you out. Come with me."

The guards behind her kept him from continuing the argument. He stood up and followed her, knowing there was nothing for it. He avoided looking in the mirror on his way out.

She didn't head to her room or the Choir. Instead, she led him to the Throne Room. He hadn't been there since his first day in the castle. He'd hoped to never go back again.

Valentine slowed upon entering the room. It looked like everyone in the City was in here, the ones who'd been the Choir, the guards, both alive and dead, the few courtiers who'd managed to be submissive enough not to be sent to the Choir.

"What's going on?" he asked the Princess.

She turned, stopping in the middle of the room. She gestured to a guard, who walked over and handed her three black orbs. The Princess tossed them to Valentine.

He caught them, the weight feeling unfamiliar in his hands after not practicing for so long. When he glanced up at the Princess, she smirked.

"Juggle, juggler," she ordered. She backed up to join with the rest of the crowd that had circled around him.

This wasn't going to end well.

He started with a slow circuit, a basic juggle. He felt off balance. Uneasy. He didn't like the feeling. Juggling was something he'd always felt confident with. But now he felt…wrong.

The circuit was out of balance and out of rhythm. He knew it was only a matter of time before he lost –

And there it went.

He dropped a ball. On the simplest circuit. On the most basic trick he'd learned. He missed.

It rolled away, right towards the Princess. She picked it up and looked at it. "So, Val. You're no longer a very important man. You're a hero who's now a criminal. You have a Tower that I control. Your Helena has replaced you with someone else. And you're a juggler that can't juggle." She walked up to him and handed the orb to him. "Tell me. Just exactly what are you now?"

He didn't know.

Valentine turned on his heel and left the Throne room, clutching the balls in his hand. He returned to his room, letting the guards slam the door behind him. He glanced in the mirror, seeing Helena lying on her bed and reading a book.

"This is your fault," he muttered at her. "You brought her back. You left her here."

Helena smiled at something in her book, her face softening.

Valentine returned to his corner by the window and closed his eyes. Before he fell asleep, he added, "And you trusted me."

* * *

Valentine held his breath as the City guards walked past him. He pressed back into the shadows, glad he wasn't wearing his robe. It was only by dressing darkly that he'd gotten this far. He waited until they clattered past before continuing on his way.

There was a back entrance into the Library, luckily. Otherwise he never would have been able to get in after his last fiasco. This was his first retrieval since he'd run into the Queen and the Princess had made it painfully clear that she wouldn't accept another failure.

He'd long ago discovered the drainage system that ran underneath the City. It was perfect for a less than honorable man like him. Not that he'd had to use it in recent years. He'd spent time being respectable and important, which meant he was allowed to use the front doors of buildings, rather than sneak in through the back.

So much for all that.

He could see the grate from here and he hurried across the square, lifting the iron and sliding into the hole, pulling the metal back into place. His feet up to his ankles were soon soaked through, but it was just the rain drains.

He plodded through the water, making sure to count the grates overhead. He had to get to thirty-one. At about sixteen, the _Book_ rustled in his pocket. Valentine hurried to the next bit of light that was cast down from the grate and flipped it open.

_**I shall slip unnoticed through the darkness like a dark, unnoticeable, slippy thing.** _

It sounded familiar. Valentine muttered the words under his breath before glaring at the book and snapping it shut. He'd said that to Helena, when he went and turned her into the Shadow Queen. "Completely different situations, you crooked-bound book."

Valentine shoved it back into his pocket, ignoring the faint fluttering. He looked up, "Seventeen…eighteen…"

When he reached the right one, Valentine climbed up the rungs and peered through the grate. The Library was dark. He didn't know if the Librarian actually slept or just sort of hibernated among the stacks. Either way, he was going to have to be careful.

He lifted the grate carefully, holding it up as he climbed the last few rungs. He looked around, resting the grate against the nearest shelf. It took a minute for him to catch his bearings, but once he did it was only a matter of minutes before he was in the right place. He crouched down and counted the number of stacks until he reached the fifteenth one. Second shelf from the bottom and aha, there it was.

Valentine pulled it out of the stack and glanced at the cover. Got it.

"What are you doing?"

He looked up from his position kneeling on the ground. There was a young man staring at him, his mask covering his entire face in brown paper except for his forehead, which was wrinkled in confusion.

Well.

Valentine moved the book behind his back. "Cleaning crew."

"You're not due in until next week. And usually there's a lot more of you," the man said.

"Everyone's been coming down with the Sphinx Spots. So they're sending me and a couple other people in over the next couple nights. That way we could get this whole place cleaned by the regular time."

He stared at Valentine, actually considering it. Valentine really hoped this kid was that stupid.

The man slowly started to shake his head. "No, I need to contact the Librarian…"

"You really don't," Valentine said quietly.

The man backed away, glancing over his shoulder down the hall. Valentine followed him, "Look, just pretend you didn't see this and neither one of us will get hurt."

They got out into the main aisle. Valentine knew that the grate was behind him, he started edging towards it.

The boy hesitated, looking over Valentine's shoulder and obviously seeing the grate.

"Don't," Valentine warned.

He didn't listen. He ran towards Valentine. The juggler wouldn't be able to make it to the grate. He dropped the book and grabbed the boy, twisting his arm up and shoving him into a shelf. The kid wasn't prepared. He probably wouldn't have known what to do anyway.

"Look, I don't want to hurt you, but I have to take this book."

"I am the Librarian's Assistant and I can't let you! Intruder in the Libr-!"

Valentine slapped his hand over the Assistant's mouth, "Shut up."

The boy mumbled beneath his hand.

"I don't want to do this," Valentine hissed. "But she'll kill us all if I don't. I don't want to hurt-"

The spider ripped out of his skin, making him yelp and step back from the Assistant.

The boy went rigid and then slipped down the shelf, lying on his stomach, his face staring down the hall with wide eyes. Valentine backed away, clutching his wrist. The boy jerked once, twice, and then moved slightly onto his side.

The spider crawled out from underneath him, bright red covering the metal far more than Valentine's injuries could have done. It faced Valentine then split into four tinier…things with two legs each. They each went for one of the boy's limbs and dragged his body across the floor to the grate, leaving a deep crimson smear across the stone.

Valentine only flinched when he heard the splash and thud. Once he moved that much it was second nature to try and run. Something sliced at his calf and he stumbled then tripped. Metallic feet were on his back, then wrapped around his wrist. He got to his hands and knees, glaring at his wrist.

"Welcome back, you little metallic son of a bitch," he muttered.

It only took a moment or two to wipe up the mess that remained and pick up the book that started all of it. Valentine climbed down out of the Library, replacing the grate. When he reached the water, something brushed his ankle, but he ignored it and limped back the way he came.

He kept the book under his shirt until he got to the edge of the City. He whistled for his Tower, which appeared nearly instantaneously and hopped up the few steps to the front door. "Let's go," he said, dropping the book on the table and taking a seat. He wiped his face and mask, feeling that queasy feeling growing in his stomach.

The _A Really Useful Book_ in his breast pocket fluttered so hard he winced and yanked it out. "What?!" he shouted at it.

It flopped open, the words scrawled across the page. _**Knowledge is power.**_

Valentine stared at it. "I think you've had too much to drink."

It flipped in a breeze that wasn't there to another page. This one had a big arrow that pointed to the book he'd picked up for the Princess.

Valentine shook his head. "I'm not reading anything she wants."

The book flipped back to the other page, talking about power again.

"The only power I have is not being nosy enough to get killed. So, no," he told the _Book_ , flipping the cover closed and keeping his hand on it. It slid away from him and opened up anyway, the words in a different hand than all the others. It wasn't uniform, but looked like handwriting.

_**You pathetic creep!** _

Valentine flinched, as if the words had been shouted aloud.

_**You useless, cake-hogging, coward!** _

"I don't have a choice. I wish I did, but I don't. And for the last time, I did not hog-"

 _ **We often confuse what we wish for with what is**_.

"Great, use my own words against me now. That's plagiarism, that is."

 _ **Books are the best weapon in the world**_.

"Shut up."

 _ **Knowledge is a better weapon than a sword**_.

"Stop." He tried to reach out to close it again, but the book skipped out of his reach. _**If you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles**_.

"Who even talks like that anymore?" Valentine snapped.

 _ **You probably hate me. I mean, I'd hate me too. Look...whatever she's done to you, I know you're still in there**_.

Valentine watched his words fade from the pages. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm going to regret this." He pulled the book he'd stolen closer to him and flipped it open.

By the time he got to the City of Shadow he'd read through a good majority of the book. And none of it was good. He walked out of his Tower, blinking as the sun was just beginning to rise, with the book under his arm and _A Really Useful Book_ in his pocket. He handed the book to the Princess with one hand, barely even looking at her.

"Val," she called after him, actually sounding offended.

"I'm tired," he said, not stopping.

He ignored the guards, but from the fact that he wasn't tackled to the ground, he figured the Princess had called them off. He didn't stop until he reached his room. He knew where it was by now.

He shut the door behind him and sat down on his bed. Only a few seconds passed before he was up again and pacing. The book he'd read was a history of how the MirrorWorld was created. He knew some of it from when Helena had visited the first time, but this one was much more detailed. It talked about the MirrorMask in particular.

Reaching for his pocket, Valentine remembered he wasn't wearing his robe. He looked around and shuffled through the dingy white pile underneath his bed until he found what he was looking for.

He rolled one of the plastic orbs around his hand, pacing again.

The MirrorMask did more than open ways to another world. It could create things. Duplicates of other people and things.

The orb sailed through the air and Valentine caught it in his other hand.

It could let you wear the face of another person, but only if the Mask had been worn by that person before, which as far as he knew had only been Helena and the Princess.

He tossed two of them in the air, catching them as he walked over to his window.

It could open entire gates between words, not just for one person, but for a group. And if you knew what you were doing, it could do so without displacing the doppelgangers in the other world.

Valentine didn't notice when all three balls were in the air.

Most importantly, the MirrorMask could ward off the shadow powers that the Princess and her mother had. Which is probably how the Princess had managed to overthrow the Queen.

He stood at the window, his hands moving independently of his own mind as he thought. If he could get the Mask away from the Princess…

Well, that wasn't going to happen easily. He was going to have to wait and bide his time until there was an opportune moment and-

Valentine stopped, catching the juggling balls that had been arcing perfectly around him. He was talking about being some sort of double agent. If she found out, he'd be killed, just like the Librarian's Assistant. Just like the Monkeybirds.

Valentine thought about the young man, now somewhere beneath the City of Light. He thought about him and then sat down on his bed again.

He couldn't do it. Not alone. He dropped the juggling balls onto the floor again, ignoring the fluttering of _A Really Useful Book_ and laid down facing the wall.

He was just one juggler. He couldn't stop her. No one person could stop her.

* * *

Valentine stumbled, being shoved into his room.

"Stop trying to wander around," the ground ordered, slamming the door behind him.

"Stop trying to be a guard, you lazy bastard," Valentine muttered. He had tried to explore a bit of the castle, going out of his mind being cooped up and wanting to get away from the mirror. He'd been politely informed that he wasn't to do it again.

He looked up, immediately seeing the mirror. He tried to ignore it, but it took up so much of his small room. He sprawled on his bed, kicking his robe down to the bottom. He been on two more missions since the last one, and although he didn't know what to do with the information, he kept reading the books. There was more worrisome things, like if the balance of the world got too tilted in one way or the other, the stronger power would wipe out the weaker one. The whole world would be covered in shadows. If the Queen died it would all be over.

Motion out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. He looked over despite himself, seeing Helena sitting on her bed, putting things away into her backpack. Three juggling balls appeared in her hands and he sat back to watch her practice. She'd been trying new moves and Valentine found himself commenting on them, even though she couldn't hear.

She had been working on adding a spin while the balls were in the air. It took a lot of control, speed and concentration. Three things he only had when he was juggling. Until recently.

She warmed up with some easy throws and then prepared herself. He already saw it wasn't going to work.

"Not high enough," he reprimanded her.

Two balls hit the ground. She caught the third one and he saw her sigh in frustration. Still, she picked them up and start again.

"Too slow. Spin faster."

One ball hit the ground.

"Better. Just a little bit faster."

She closed her eyes and took a breath. Then she started juggling, her eyes watching them fly through the air. Valentine sat forward as she spun-

-and caught every one, continuing the arc without a break. She grinned and did it again, not missing a beat.

"Good job," he told her reflection. "Now you have to add a cape or something to make it really dramatic. Have something that spins about you. That would be perfect."

She looked into the mirror and met his eyes. Valentine froze in his seat.

Then the speaky thing on her bed glowed bright. Helena blinked and looked down at it, dropped the balls into her duffel bag and picked up the glowy thing. She flipped it open and smiled, which made Valentine roll his eyes. It was the man-boy, as usual.

The balls disappeared into it and she headed out of her room, leaving Valentine alone again. He rolled onto his side, trying to get rid of the ever-deepening hole in his chest.

* * *

Valentine glanced in the mirror, seeing Helena coming through the door. He didn't mind the mirror when it was just Helena. It felt like he had company to talk to, even if she couldn't hear him. It was only when the man-boy joined her that he started to dislike it again. But this time, Helena was talking over her shoulder and smiling as she shut the door. She leaned against it for a second, the smile fading away. She reached for the knob and locked it.

He sat up. She'd never locked her door before.

Dropping her bag, Helena walked towards her bed, holding her hand to her side. Her face was tight now, none of the smiles or carefree nature she'd just shown whoever she was talking to. She was in a lot of pain.

She pulled up the hem of her shirt and Valentine caught sight of an ugly looking bruise on her ribs. He knew that kind of bruise. She'd cracked a bone or two. What in the worlds had she been doing?

Helena pulled her top off entirely and though Valentine felt a little uncomfortable, he didn't turn away. The bruise started just a few inches below her ribs. She had to go to some sort of doctor to get it bound up, or...

Helena kicked a plastic box out from underneath her bed, bending down with a wince to grab it. She straightened and popped off the lid, grabbing a roll of brown bandages.

Quickly and with an ease that said she'd done it before, Helena wrapped the bandages around her ribs tightly. She stood up and remained still for a minute, obviously testing to see if it was tight enough.

She jumped and stared at her door. Obviously someone was knocking. She grabbed her shirt from the ground and pulled it over her head, the only indication that she was hurt was the slight wrinkle under her clothes and the tightness around her eyes. She grabbed the door and unlocked it, letting in a man that looked like the Prime Minister. He grinned at her and pulled her into a hug, not noticing the way she stiffened.

Valentine watched the Prime Minister stay and talk to Helena, who subtlety pushed the box of bandages back underneath her bed when the man had his back turned. She smiled throughout the conversation until the man bounced over to her and kissed her on the forehead. He took her shoulders and said something to her, his face serious and excited at the same time. Helena smiled and nodded.

The man left, shutting the door behind him. Helena sat back down on her bed, her face pale. She glanced towards the edge of the mirror and said something to herself before she stood again. Valentine looked away the second she put her fingers through her belt loops. He counted to 100 before looking back. He caught sight of the bandage again as she pulled her t-shirt down. What drew his eyes were her legs, also spattered with bruises both new and old. She tucked her legs under a blanket just before her door opened again.

Her mother walked in and sat on the edge of her bed. Valentine watched as Helena and her mother chatted for a bit. Just as she was getting ready to go, her mother patted her leg. Helena winced and her mother froze.

Her mother drew back the blanket, revealing the bruises. She glanced at Helena and even through the mirror, Valentine knew their voices had dropped. Helena tried to brush off the injuries, but her mother clearly wasn't buying. She examined Helena hard with her eyes, and caught the shadow of the bandages underneath. She reached for Helena's shirt, but Helena grabbed her mother's wrist and said something very quietly, glancing at the door.

Her mother stared at her and the hugged her gently. Helena's eyes tightened over her mother's shoulder, but she was smiling when her mother pulled away. They talked quietly for a little while longer before her mother left. Helena turned out the light soon after, though Valentine could still see her from the glow beneath her door and through her window. She fell asleep soon after.

It was few hours later when Helena sat straight up, her eyes flying open. Valentine, flipping through _A Really Useful Book_ out of boredom, jumped at the sudden movement.

She looked around, breathing hard and clearly just coming out of a nightmare. Her hand held her side as she bent over out of pain. Helena rested her head on her knees, hugging her ribs. Slowly she straightened and looked up at the ceiling, her breathing calming down. Valentine caught sight of a few shiny tracks on her face. She wiped those away quickly and lied back down in her bed.

He found himself staring at the mirror for a long time after that. Why would she rather cry alone and in pain rather than let her mother or father know? He wasn't really one to talk from experience about parents, but the impression that he got is that most of them took care of their children, especially when they got hurt. His mother left him to fend for himself, but she was just a horrible person. Helena's parents obviously cared.

He stared at the mirror, but Helena had turned her face away. She wasn't asleep, he could tell. She was still crying. Valentine knew what that was like. Not that Valentine's cried. But the few times he thought he might close to crying, he would have given anything to have someone who actually cared there for him. If only there was a way through the mirror then he could be there for Helena.

He shook his head and looked back at his book. She had her ugly man-boy for that. She didn't need or want him around. And he didn't want to be around. Or wanted.

" _ **I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.**_ "

Valentine sighed and shut the book, "Shut up."

* * *

Valentine looked up as Helena entered her room, the boy right behind her. She was dressed in a dress, which was an odd way for her to dress. She had paint on her face, and her hair was curled and pinned and fancy. Beneath all the frippery, he saw anger boiling to the surface. It wasn't the first time Valentine had seen them fight, but this one was different. He watched, feeling like an intruder into her life, but unable to look away. Helena turned on the boy as soon as he shut the door, her hands gesturing wildly.

The blonde boy jabbed his finger at the mirror and Valentine stepped back, he could see him? No, of course he couldn't. Don't be stupid, Valentine. But what was he pointing at?

Helena paled, looking at the mirror as well. She shook her head and grabbed his arm.

He reached out and reached for something right by the mirror, Helena pushed his arm and shouted something.

The boy's face got ugly, his mouth twisting up. He went for the mirror again and when Helena tried to stop him, he pushed her.

Valentine was on his feet, vibrating with fury. How dare he shove her! And here he was, stuck in the City of Shadows and unable to help her when she needed it the-

Helena drew back her hand, formed a fist and slammed her boyfriend – now decidedly ex – in the nose. He fell to the ground, cupping his nose and Helena stood over him, pointing at the door and making her meaning clear even through silence.

Valentine added his own gestures as the man stumbled out of the room.

"Well done, Helena-na," Valentine told her as she faced the door. "You deserve better. Now, take up those pins and let's…"

He trailed off as Helena shut the door and turned around. She was pale and shaking, and when her mouth quivered, Valentine felt something in the area of chest start to hurt. She made it to her bed and grabbed her see-an-enemy, hunching over it and burying her face in the fuzzy greenness. Valentine watched for what seemed like an eternity until she lifted her face.

Her eyes were red and there were tracks down her face that kept him from pretending he didn't know what had happened.

Helena was hurting. Over a boy. Over a stupid boy. Over a stupid boy that had hurt her and she was still crying.

She grabbed the small bag she had carried in, pulling out a red book and started tearing out pages, crumpling them up and throwing them to the ground, more tears streaming down her face. She threw the book a few moments later, yelling at it.

Then she breathed in, staring at the mess. Helena slid to the ground and gathered up every single page she had ripped out, smoothing them and putting them back in the book as best she could. She was still crying, but she clutched the book to her chest and curled up around it, her mouth mumbling things that he couldn't quite read. Helena pressed her eyes into her bedspread, hiding her face from her empty room. Eventually her fingers relaxed around her book and her breathing settled out.

Valentine made sure she was asleep before he stood up, his own muscles sore from crouching in front of the mirror for so long. If she had cried like that over someone she no longer liked, what had happened to her when Valentine had said his awful things. Even though he meant to help her, he'd had to hurt her. And he liked to think they were better friends than the man-boy. Or had been better friends.

Which meant Valentine had hurt her more.

He knew that, in a way, those years ago. But knowing he had hurt her and seeing her hurt were two wildly different things. And for all of his good intentions and reasons and excuses, he couldn't run from that.

He'd hurt his best friend. Only friend, really.

Valentine walked towards the window, needing to get some space. He didn't know why he felt more guilty for this than he did for the City he was ransacking one piece of valuable information at a time. Helena was just one girl. He was helping to destroy an entire city. She wasn't even in this mess, not really. So why did his chest hurt so much?

He shook his head, trying to clear it. Helena was one person. An unhelpful person. A poor-choice-making person. An unimportant person at this point.

It didn't help. Valentine paced now, what did she even matter? She was an ugly, maskless, little girl who had ruined everything and-

Well. Not ugly. Not really. She was pretty, he supposed, as a completely objective outside observer.

And true, she didn't have a mask and that made her different, but he kind of liked different on her. It suited her far better than a mask like the Princess's did. He liked watching her talk, even to the ugly man-boy. The way her face would move was far more revealing than any kind of changeable mask.

And little girl wasn't quite right, either. Maybe it had been right two years ago, but it had been two years and...things...had changed about Helena that made Valentine think about how old she really was. Seventeen now? He was twenty one. Not too big of an age difference. And next year she'd be eighteen and he'd be twenty two which was perfectly reasonable to be-

-friends.

Because that's what they were. Or used to be. Or had been?

And she hadn't necessarily ruined everything per say. He'd maybe had a hand in it. But he hadn't had a choice. And Helena hadn't known what kind of trouble she was in. It wasn't her fault.

Valentine walked back to the mirror, staring at the girl who still dressed up for the ruined date, a beaten up notebook in her arms. His chest still hurt and his head was whirling, but he relaxed on his bed, watching Helena sleep.

He must have dozed off, because next thing he knew, she was under the covers in her bed, the lamp by her head turned on and she was scribbling in the red book. She didn't look sad any longer and there was even a little smile on her face.

Valentine fell asleep, the ache easing a little.

He woke up the next morning, feeling a little different. He felt...taller? Cleaner? He stood up and looked at his clothes. They were the same, but just a little off. His shirt a slightly different shade of burgundy. His robe was a little longer, and the back of it was split to have tails. He liked it - a little drama never hurt anyone. Valentine looked inside his robe and found that he had more pockets than before, stuffed with things he didn't remember putting there. Juggling balls, bits of paper, toffee. Oooh, toffee. He took out a piece and continued his examination.

His shoes weren't shoes any longer, but boots that were comfortable and functional. With a dash of romance. He liked them too. But how had it happened? He'd been wearing his old clothes and shoes when he went to bed the night before.

Valentine glanced into the mirror and saw that Helena was still asleep. She was lying on her stomach, a pen lying limply in her hand. He could just barely see the top of a spikey head.

He grinned for the first time in a year. She hadn't forgotten him.

He stood in front of the mirror, staring at the sleeping, ugly, maskless girl who still managed to find time for him, even after the things he'd said to her. Who only asked him to do things that were right and wouldn't hurt others. Who forgave him when he forgot and reverted to his selfish ways. The girl who held her own against Queens and Princess and Very Important People and ugly boys who didn't deserve titles. The girl who created an entire world of people and places and still remembered him.

The girl who could juggle.

In a moment, his entire world had shifted and although he couldn't explain it, he finally had something that mattered. Something that could keep him from wallowing and vanishing into the guilt and depression that had been creeping up on him for the past two years. Something that the Princess could never touch.

He knelt down and dug beneath his bed. He fingers found a round sphere and he snagged it, grabbed the two other ones he found, too. The dark circles went into his pocket. He shoved open his door, catching one guard in the face and the other unaware. He jogged down to the Throne Room, the guard unable to catch him because of his armor. He got to the double doors of the Throne Room and shoved them open with a bang, cutting off the Princess mid sentence and drawing all eyes.

She glared at him and Valentine wondered how he had ever confused her and Helena.

"What do you want, Val?" she snapped, tapping her fingers.

He didn't answer, but he started to juggle. The simple circuit he had failed on last time. The one that he was completing flawlessly now.

Glancing between the spinning orbs, he saw the Princess' face clouding as she watched.

Valentine hid his smile and juggled one-handed to get the other three balls, the ones she had embarrassed him with the first time. Then he added those in, interspersing the colored ones with the black ones.

The Princess' eyes tightened as he continued to juggle, the spheres going higher and higher without a single hiccup. Her knuckles were white on the chair. Valentine started to wind down, catching the balls one by one and putting them into his pockets, punctuating each one with a promise in his head that he hoped the Princess could hear.

_I'm not your victim.  
_

_And I'm not like you.  
_

_I won't let you win.  
_

_I'll find a way to stop you.  
_

_Because I'm a Valentine._

He spun on the last one, knowing before it even happened that it would be perfect, his robe snapping out behind him. Valentine stopped and caught the final black orb in his hand amid the utter silence of the Throne Room. He dropped it on the ground and it rolled back to the Princess. She watched it until it hit the bottom of the dais, then looked up at Valentine.  
He met her black eyes and then bowed, never lowering his eyes.

_And I'm a very important person._

He turned and walked right up to the guard who was still out of breath, huffing and puffing at the door. Valentine walked through the double doors, letting them close behind him. He caught sight of the Princess just before the doors shut, her face pale with anger and he couldn't help it. He laughed.

It was time to start acting like a Valentine again.


	4. It wouldn't mean I was forgiven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from If I Apologised.

Valentine knew Helena's schedule like the back of his hand and knew how long he could expect her to be gone based on the size of the bag that she carried out. Backpack meant school, meant eight hours. Then she'd come home and spend time in her room doing work. Duffel bag meant circus practice he gathered, usually until late at night. Both bags meant she was gone a week and she always came back exhausted, but trying out new juggling acts. He assumed that she had been traveling with her family's circus.

Valentine kept up with her practicing, trying the same moves she did or reviewing the ones he already knew. Now he was always juggling.

"Val."

He didn't even look up, concentrating on his juggling. He didn't answer, which angered the Princess more.

"Val," she snapped.

"Need something?" he asked quietly.

"A book."

He ignored her, making her shift angrily. "I need a book, Val."

"I heard you." He stopped, catching his orbs and putting them into his pocket. "What do you need all these books for?"

She stared at him. "You don't usually ask questions."

"You don't usually come to me," he pointed out. He cocked his head, "Getting lonely up in your evil tower?"

"Get me the book, Val," she ordered. She described it in detail and Valentine stored it away.

"How many more books will you need?" he asked her. "Starting your own evil library?"

The Princess smirked at him, "Don't try to be clever, Val. It's really not your area. Get it to me by morning."

He walked past her, "Always do."

Valentine thought that getting into the City would get more difficult as the years passed and he continued to plunder the Library, but nothing seemed to change. It was like they weren't even aware there was a problem.

In and out in twenty minutes, Valentine returned to his Tower with the newest book under his arm. He sat in his living room as the Tower took a rather sedate pace back to the City of Shadows. Opening the book, he started to read, doing the research that he might someday be able to use. Somehow.

The Mask could make the wearer invisible, sort of. It would reflect what was behind the wearer, making it look like they weren't there. But if they moved, there would be an outline. Could be useful.

He closed the book as it got into the history of the MirrorWorld and away from the MirrorMask. He settled the book across his lap and stared at the empty armchair across from him. Invisibility would be pretty useful. He could get the Mask and sneak out, staying invisible until he got to the City of Light. Where he'd be immediately arrested. Or killed on sight. The former wouldn't be so bad, if he got a chance to speak. The latter would be inconvenient. But at least the MirrorMask would be out of the hands of the crazy, lying, evil-

Why did he even have two armchairs?

* * *

He was lying in bed when the mirror he was watching out of the corner of his eye went dark. Valentine sat up, frowning. He heard footsteps pounding outside of his door and walked over to it, knocking.

"What's going on out there?" he shouted, trying the knob.

It opened and there was no one standing guard. He took one step out before something slammed into his chest.

He fell back against the door with a huff, automatically wrapping his arms around the figure. "What-"

Brown hair fell back from her face as she looked up. He clearly saw chocolate brown eyes.

Valentine froze, "Helena?!"

"We have to go," she told him. She grabbed his hand and led him through the halls, up towards the Princess' room.

"We have to get out," he said, pulling her back. "How are you here? Why did you come here?"

"For you." Her face was so matter-of-fact when she said that, it took a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in. "We have to go this way."

"Why?"

"Trust me, Val."

Valentine followed her, the warm fingers leading him forwards, her face calm and collected, like she saved the world every day.

But wait…

Helena led him to the Princess' room and he closed the door behind them. "What are you looking for?" he asked her.

"The Mask. We need it." She opened up drawers and cupboards, searching.

He swallowed. "It's not in there."

Helena looked up, "Then where?"

When he didn't answer, she walked over to him, taking both of his hands in hers. "Help me find it, Val."

He got his hands free, tracing them up her arms, over her shoulders and up her neck. She stared at him, still calm.

Or empty.

His fingers found the seam of the MirrorMask and he pulled it off, revealing the Princess.

"Clever," she smirked.

"Sloppy. Helena never called me Val," he snapped.

The Princess took the Mask out of his fingers. "I almost had you."

He turned around to leave, "Not nearly."

"You could pretend."

He glanced over his shoulder, "Pretend what? That you're not a murdering, manipulative witch?"

"That I'm your Helena."

He didn't know what kind of game she wanted to play, but he wasn't buying. "Pretending is for children."

She put her hand on his shoulder and stopped him. "Fine, lying if you prefer. You already lie to yourself every day, Val. What's one more?"

He shrugged his shoulder and got her to remove her hand. "Not. Interested."

"I am exactly like her," the Princess said, her voice rising.

"You're nothing like her," he said, turning to face her. "And Valentines don't settle for second best."

She slapped him.

Valentine reeled. Sure, she'd hurt him, but she'd never actually raised a hand to him. She had more thoughtful, ruthless, conniving ways to do it. To resort to brute force meant…

He felt the corner of his mouth rising up in a smirk. The Princess's face darkened in fury, but he couldn't keep from smiling.

It meant that she wasn't as in control as she let everyone else believe.

"If that'll be all?" he asked her, almost bouncing on his toes.

"Get out," she hissed, turning away from him.

Valentine did so, nodding to the guards that had reappeared by the door. "Gents."

He heard glass shatter behind me, making him chuckle to himself as he headed towards his room.

The ice princess had begun to crack.

* * *

Sometimes he wondered why she didn't take his mirror to Helena away. As much as he hated her, he knew she wasn't completely stupid. She had to have made the connection between his getting the mirror and his sudden…belligerence.

Valentine thought that maybe if she took it away, she'd still be admitting to failure. That even silent and unintentional, Helena had more sway over him than the Princess, who was ever so annoyingly present.

Or perhaps she left it because it kept him more complacent in his room. He'd certainly been less tempted to leave now that he had something that mattered.

Either way, he tried not to push it too much. Especially after the latest incident with her. Next time she ordered him to her room, he went without complaint, got the description of the mirror she wanted, and proceeded with the pick-up.

It didn't mean he wasn't thinking about getting back to the mirror, though. As soon as he got back three days later, he shoved the mirror into the Princess' hands and proceeded up to his room, immediately looking at the mirror. He didn't even hear the door shut behind him.

Helena had a big box on her bedspread, but she was sitting in front of the mirror, holding her hair up off of her neck and looking at it. She'd only ever worn it down or in a ponytail. It was kind of endearing to see her trying new hairstyles. She opened up the box and smiled at whatever was in it.

She jumped and looked at her door, grabbing the box on her bed and shoving it between her bed and her wall. Then she ran and opened up her door, letting in her father. He stepped in, looking a little frantic. He grabbed Helena's hands and spoke to her earnestly.

Helena looked down at her father's hands, then back up at him and nodded, shrugging as she did so. Her father asked her something, staring at her.

She nodded, smiling but Valentine could tell it was a little forced.

Her dad left and Helena stayed sitting on her bed for another moment. Then she sighed and rubbed her face. She got up and grabbed the box she had hidden from her father. She opened it up and stared at what was inside.

Helena picked it up, revealing a silver dress. She held it up to her, looking at it in the mirror. He noticed the purple sash that tied around her waist and trailed down to the hem. It didn't have sleeves and it only reached her knees. It was different. Pretty.

She smiled slightly at her reflection, but then the smile faded. She put the dress back in the box. Then she grabbed her duffel bag and dropped it on top of the box, uncaring that it got crushed. Once the bag was packed, the pushed the box off of her bed. She grabbed her backpack and headed out the door. On the way, she paused by the small corkboard on her wall. She pinned up some pictures there, ticket stubs, pieces of things she had done or had been going to do. She grabbed one rectangle off of there and crumpled it up, throwing it past her bed to land on the box. Valentine only saw one word – Prom.

The door shut and Valentine stared after her. He hadn't seen that disappointed expression on Helena's face before. He didn't like it. She did a lot of things to make her father smile, but he always saw the face she didn't show her parents. The exhaustion, the hurt, the disappointment.

She loved them, he knew that. And they loved her. And their circus.

He wished he could make it better.

* * *

It had been a difficult week. The Princess had sent him out several times and he hadn't been able to sleep in his comfortable if sparse cell for a full night at all. He dropped off the latest retrieval – three different masks and a very particular windowpane – and went up to his cell without complaint, falling face first onto his bed with a groan. He kicked off his comfortable boots and turned onto his side, glancing in the mirror out of habit. He closed his eyes and sighed, finally ready to-

He sat up. Helena was sitting at her desk, her head in her hands. She rarely sat this close to the mirror. She wiped her eyes and looked into the mirror with a sigh.

Helena's eyes were red-rimmed and she looked pale. She picked up a pen and continued with something in front of her. She moved her empty hand in a gesture like she was talking. She glanced to the edge of the mirror, her mouth moving in a conversation. He slid off of his comfortable bed and onto the floor in front of the mirror, at eye-level with her.

"What happened, Helena-na?" he asked her, searching her face and room for clues.

A black dress was on the bed and her usually clean room had clothes strewn on the floor, like she hadn't bothered to put them away after changing. Which was not normal for her.

"Talk to me," Valentine said.

She was still talking, the pen moving in confidant, straight strokes across the paper. She glanced up into the mirror, almost having a conversation with herself. He glanced at the paper, seeing a wreath on the center of the page. The words were difficult to read through the mirror, but he caught a few. Words like _Dearly Loved_ , _Missed_ , and _Nan_.

Someone had died. Nan had died. Nan…? Oh, the old woman. Helena's grandmother.

Helena's mother opened the door, leaning her head in. She was dressed in black, too. She said something to Helena, her eyes red but dry. Helena nodded and her mother left.

She looked into the mirror again, her eyes listing to the side of the mirror. Her chin quivered, but she drew in a breath and calmed down. She finished her drawing and put it to the side, dropping her head into her hands again.

Shifting to the side, she grabbed her red notebook, still battered and pages torn out but tucked in. Helena flipped it open, finding a specific page. It was creased and battered. One that had obviously felt her wrath the day she punched the man-boy.

She lifted it out of the notebook and stared at it for a second. Her other finger traced the lines from her drawing. She dropped the page and put her fingers against the glass.

Valentine saw the paper and blinked. It was him.

He reached his hand up and put his palm against his side of the mirror. He could have been imagining it, but he felt like the places where her fingers met his were warmer than the others.

She smiled slightly, then dropped her hand away and picked up the dress on her bed. He looked away for one hundred counts and when he looked back, Helena was dressed and pinning back her hair. She picked up the piece of paper that held him and tucked it back into her red notebook. Then she grabbed the card she had made and headed out the door.

* * *

A month passed before the Princess sent him out again. She wanted an entire box of sphinxes and the little bastards had taken him nearly a week to gather up. By the time he had gotten back, he was exhausted. Valentine trudged upstairs to his room and fell asleep without bothering to get changed. When he woke up, the day was already halfway gone. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head with a groan. He had a headache, from either too little or too much sleep, he wasn't sure. He glanced up into the mirror, looking out the window-

-and back into the mirror.

Helena was in her room. Changing. And he was looking.

Valentine swallowed, shutting his eyes. Usually he had a hint to when she would be changing, and he would stop himself before she started and for two and a half years he didn't have an issue. Now, the issue was engrained on the back of his eyelids. Probably forever.

Not that he minded.

Wait, yes he did. Or not. He didn't know.

What he did know is that he really wanted to open his eyes. He counted to one hundred. Then two. Then to five hundred just to be safe. When he opened his eyes finally (very tentatively for a half a second before he snapped them shut again, then opened for sure when he knew Helena was gone), the room was empty.

He huffed, falling back on the bed. It was just an accident. It didn't mean anything. He didn't mean to see anything. Not that he did. She had been wearing what were technically considered clothes. Almost. Maybe.

He covered his eyes, and was immediately assaulted by images of long legs and scraps of green fabric that didn't leave anything to the imagination. A flat stomach and certain curves that had most definitely not been as pronounced the first time he met her, she had been stretching her arms above her head and more skin than he'd know what to with and-

Nope.

He stood up, forcing the image out of his head by replacing it with detailed inspections of his stone floor. He'd never noticed that crack in the masonry before. How interesting. And those lines looked like the Prime Minister's mask, and that group the giants, and that one reminded him of the curve of Helena's hip and-

Dammit.

"You are an awful, awful man, Valentine. Pull yourself together," he muttered. "She's your friend."

Sort of. He thought of her as a friend. Most of the time. When he wasn't seeing more of her than he should. And he meant _more_. But the last time they had spoken, he had broken any version of friendship.

And yet…she still thought about him. Talked to him even though she thought he couldn't hear. Even though she thought he didn't care.

He did. Very much. And she still thought he didn't. That bothered him.

* * *

Helena had taken her big bag, so he knew she'd be gone for the next week or so. He'd gotten used to it, said hello to Helena's mother as she came into her room on occasion. He'd gotten over her looking like the Queen of the City of Light. Though he certainly saw the resemblance.

A week went by. Then two. Which had happened before. When the third week hit, Valentine knew something was wrong. He could feel it. So he sat by the mirror day and night, barely sleeping in case he missed something. He waited for Helena to come back, but days ticked by and that wrong feeling spread from his stomach to his chest until he wasn't sure how he was able to keep breathing.

It was late three nights later when something finally happened. Helena's door opened and her mother entered, pale and shaking.

Valentine stopped juggling and watched her walk over to Helena's bed and sit down. She picked up the see-an-enemy and stared at it for a moment.

Tears slipped over her eyes and she bent over the toy, silent sobs racking her shoulders. Valentine stared into the mirror and hoped he was wrong. Someone else came into the room and Valentine realized it was Helena's father. But he couldn't be home. Not without Helena. Why was he there without Helena?

The woman got up when he entered the room. She was shouting at him, her face getting red splotches on her cheeks. He just stood there, not saying a word.

Helena's mother slapped him and then covered her mouth, anger giving way to tears again.

Seemingly unaware of the red mark on his face, Helena's father took the woman into his arms and the two of them stood in the room together, both of them crying.

Valentine stood alone, dragged into their grief without understanding why. But he knew it had to do with Helena.

Something bad had happened to Helena.

He moved before he even thought about it, out his door so quickly that the guards didn't think to stop him until he was already down the hall. He heard them chasing him, but he didn't turn. His robe whipped out behind him, snapping around corners and up stairs until he reached the dark room.

Valentine slammed open the door and the Princess jumped. "What do you think you're-"

"What did you do?" he spoke over her.

"I have no idea what-"

"What did you do to Helena?" Valentine shouted, ignoring the sounds of the guards coming in behind him.

She blinked and stared at him. Then her face broke into a twisted smile, "Took you long enough. And she got what was coming to her."

Staring into her dark eyes, Valentine realized that she was lying. She had no idea what'd happened. She hadn't done anything.

"Take him back to his room and actually guard him," the Princess said, flapping her hand at her guards. "Knock next time, Val."

He allowed them to lead him out and back down to his room in silence. He barely noticed when they shoved him into his room, slamming the door behind him.

He went to the mirror and knelt in front of it, but it was empty of everyone. Even the see-an-enemy was gone now. Valentine pressed his hand against the glass, pushing as if he could break the barrier.

"Where are you?"

* * *

Helena climbed out of the back of the trailer, checking the straps as she did so.

"All set, Bambino?" her father asked as she hopped out. Pingo closed the door behind her locking and securing the big top's trailer.

She nodded, brushing off the dirt on her hands. "We're good to go."

Pingo gave her a thumbs up and headed to the cab. With three hundred miles to go before their show tomorrow night, they had voted to head out straight after the show and set up before sleeping. It wasn't the first time and it worked better than trying to sleep and then set-up. They always gave themselves too much time for set-up, banking on the idea that something would need fixing.

The fleet of cars, pickups, RVs, and trailers began following Pingo out of the field. Helena and her father walked to their ride in no big hurry, as they always brought up the rear and Helena's trailer was already hooked up to the back of her father's RV. Helena let out a jaw-cracking yawn as she headed towards the passenger door.

"Why don't you go get some rest, Bambino?" her dad said.

She had to wait a few seconds for the yawn to vanish, making her reply a lot less believable. "I'm okay."

Her dad urged her to her trailer. "Go catch some rest. Another big day tomorrow."

She couldn't argue. It'd been two weeks of these tear-downs, driving, and set-ups, with only three nights of actual rest in between shows. She was exhausted. "Thanks, Dad. Love you."

He smiled and opened her door for her. "Sweet dreams."

She stepped up, making sure the door was locked and secured, taking a quick moment to ensure that the rest of her items were properly stowed. The RV started up and Helena sat on her bed, taking the time to wipe of the stage makeup and quickly brush out her hair, but not bothering with her jeans, jacket, and leotard. She even left her shoes on she was so exhausted.

When the trailer started moving, Helena let the momentum drop her back onto the bed and she curled up. Her eyes burned a little as she closed them, too dried out from lack of sleep. With the gentle swaying of the trailer and the hush of paper rattling against her wall, Helena fell asleep.

_Helena was dreaming about the tightrope. She'd been practicing up there for a few weeks now, so it wasn't the first time. This one was still different. She was near the center of the rope, her chin high and her arms outstretched. They she heard someone shout her name from the ground. Against all the rules, she looked down.  
_

_Her mother smiled up at her, "Helena!"  
_

_Helena grinned, "Hi, Mum!"  
_

_Her mother's face wavered in and out of focus, to be replaced with the Queen of Light's. "Help."  
_

_Helena took a step back, wobbling on the rope. She hadn't dreamed about the MirrorWorld in months. Years. She'd been thinking about it more just recently, but not dreaming about it.  
_

_"Helena."  
_

_She looked to the other side of the rope on the ground where her father and the Prime Minister fought for focus.  
_

_"Bambino!"  
_

_"Please come back."  
_

_She had to look away, to adjust her footing on the highwire. She was losing focus and balance.  
_

_"Helena-na."  
_

_She was keeping her eyes up; not that it helped, since he was standing on the highwire platform. Helena swallowed, meeting his eyes.  
_

_"You're still disgusting," he said, smirking. He was leaning against the support post, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. Helena ignored him.  
_

_"They need you," he told her.  
_

_She didn't say anything, but took the chance to look him over. He looked older and leaner, which was saying something, since he'd been pretty skinny the last time she saw him. There was something about him, though. She couldn't place it. Whatever it was, he looked different.  
_

_Helena blinked and Valentine's mask was gone. Her extended hands clenched into fists when she realized who this was now. She kept walked forward, knowing that it was bring her closer to him, but also knowing she would fall if she just stayed there any longer.  
_

_"Selfish brat."  
_

_Helena kept quiet, hearing the calls for help from the ground get louder. "Help" and "Hel" started to get confused, the masks disappearing and reappearing so quickly she couldn't tell who was saying what. She frowned, staring at the support pole that was her focus point.  
_

_"Nobody will care about you as long as they think you're nuts," Andrew sneered.  
_

_Was he twelve? Did he think that would work on her?  
_

_"Nice bloke, that one." Mask - Valentine. "He's charming, really."  
_

_"-your insane obsession over a place and people that doesn't even exist!" Andrew.  
_

_"They need your help, Helena-na," Valentine said, gesturing to the ground.  
_

_"Why?" she asked, breaking her rule and not caring. She was almost to the platform.  
_

_The mask vanished, but before Andrew could say anything it reappeared.  
_

_"They're in danger. Very dangerous danger. Just up your alley, if I remember correctly," he said, watching her.  
_

_She was just a few feet away from the platform. She waited until her feet touched the wooden base, glancing up into Valentine's face. "From what?"  
_

_"Not what," he said. Andrew's face reappeared, sneering at her, and then Valentine was back. He put his hands on her shoulders, staring at her.  
_

_"Who, then?" she asked, reaching up to wrap one hand around his wrist.  
_

_He smiled. "Oh. Me."  
_

_Helena frowned, "You? Valentine, what-"  
_

_The mask began to vanish and reappear too quickly for her to see who was who. All Helena knew is that suddenly she was pushed.  
_

_She fell off of the platform, heading towards the ground. She forced herself to relax, seeing that the net was in place. It still hurt a little, but not nearly as much as hitting the ground would.  
_

_Just before she reached the net, there was the sound of screeching tires and screaming metal. Helena gasped as a bright light went off and the net vanished. Pale stonework rose up to meet her and she covered her face_.

Helena hit the ground hard, but not as hard as falling from a tightrope. She winced, rolling onto her back and making sure she hadn't broken anything. Her lungs protested by throwing a coughing fit. When she could finally breathe, Helena focused on the sky above her. It seemed a little washed out. She frowned and a cloud of fish flew by.

Helena sat straight up, ignoring the spinning sensation in her head. The fish swam away from her and towards towers that rose up about a mile away from her. The ragged landscape and familiar skylines, the ones she fallen asleep to every night for eighteen years, were no illusion.

She was back in the MirrorWorld.

"Well. Shit."


	5. It wouldn't mean you wanted me to stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same copyrights as usual. Song title. Not my characters. This is a pretty good start to some of the action. :)

After a few hours of walking, Helena sighed when she finally reached the gates of the City of Light. Helena looked around, but the view only deepened the pit that was starting in her stomach – the Tower wasn't anywhere in sight. The gates to the City were closed. Of course that was her luck. She knocked, not really expecting anyone to answer.

A small window opened up a few feet to the right. "The City is closed."

"Closed?" Helena asked. "How can you close a city?"

"Like this." He slammed the window shut.

Helena rolled her eyes and knocked again.

The window opened. "The City is closed."

"I heard. Could you let me in, please?"

"No. I am the City Gatekeeper and the City is closed."

"Could you open the gates and let me in?" Helena tried.

"I could-"

Finally, some good news.

"-but I won't."

Helena huffed, "Look, go to the Queen and tell her Helena is here to see her."

"Helena? Who's she?"

"I'm she."

"Funny, that's the same name as our Creator," the Gatekeeper said.

"Funny," Helena drawled. "Could you please inform her Majesty?"

"I'll tell her, but the City is-"

"Closed," she interrupted. "Yes, so I've heard."

The small window shut and she heard the sound of feet hurrying away. Helena leaned against door and yawned. She didn't feel like she'd slept much, and then she just went and walked a mile to get to a door that was closed to her. She slid down the wooden gate and leaned against it, her eyes already starting to close...

"Helena!"

She woke with a start, seeing her mother - no, the Queen kneeling next to her. A surprisingly short man stood next to the open door and from the large 'G' that took up most of his chest and pants, Helena figured this was the Gatekeeper.

"Hullo, your Majesty," Helena said, trying to get to her feet.

"My dear, you look exhausted," she said sympathetically, taking her arm to help her up.

Helena yawned, "I am. I'm sorry."

"That's quite all right. Let's get you inside and in bed." They walked through the gate and the Queen nodded at the Gatekeeper, "Well done, Gallant. Make sure to lock up again."  
Gallant nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

Helena heard the sound of heavy chains being put into place though her vision was suddenly blocked by several dozen small guardsmen. They flanked the Queen and Helena at least three guards deep, all of them on high alert. Helena couldn't see a reason for it, even though the streets were completely empty except for them. Between her dream and this, Helena had an uneasy feeling growing in her stomach.

"Your Majesty? What's going on?" Helena asked, looking for any information in the streets around them.

The Queen wasn't smiling. "Nothing we need to discuss right now, my dear. You need some rest."

Helena wanted to argue, but another yawn built up. "But, we will discuss it?"

"Absolutely," she said, putting her hand on Helena's shoulder. "I'd been hoping that you would return."

Helena smiled, but didn't say anything. That made one of them.

"How did you return?" the Queen asked. "I don't see the MirrorMask."

"I don't…I don't know how I returned." Helena looked at her hands. "I didn't draw, or use the Mask, or anything. I think I fell asleep. I had this weird dream. You were in it, and the Prime Minister, and, um..."

"I see," the Queen said quietly.

Helena took a breath, "You know something about him, don't you?"

"Now is not the time for…news."

That did not sound good.

They were led to the castle by the guards, who led them to the castle doors then stood watch outside it. The Queen waved away her servants and led Helena up to a door herself. "It's not much, but it should do."

Helena eyed the most important feature of the room – the very large bed. "It's perfect."

"Sleep well, my dear." The Queen turned to leave.

Catching sight of the deep, dark bags beneath the Queen's eyes, Helena said quietly, "Your Majesty, whatever it is, you know I'll help."

"I certainly hope so," she answered. "We'll talk once you've rested."

The Queen shut the door behind her.

Helena slipped into the bed and lay on her side. The pit in her stomach hadn't lessened any, and she didn't understand how she'd gotten here, but there was something comfortable about the MirrorWorld. She felt at home here.

She tried to remember what had happened before arriving here, but all she could recall was a vague light and the sound of metal screeching. With a huff, she rolled onto her back and clenched her eyes shut. She wouldn't think about anything else. Just get to sleep. She hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in weeks. It was very important that -

_"I'm a very important man."_

"Oh, dammit," she muttered. Grabbing her pillow, Helena wrapped it around her head, trying to drown out the inane voice in her head. It had been silent for a while, then had started randomly popping up after her break-up with Andrew. And she'd encouraged it, conversations and concerns got raised to the mirror rather than to her parents or any of her friends in the carnival. Not that any of them were fantastic conversationalists. And the few that she could talk to didn't really understand her. Not even her parents, as much as she wished they did.

Fact was, her best friend was and always will be on this side of the mirror.

She just hoped they were on the same side of this fight.

* * *

When Helena woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. A tiny girl stood by the window, her squiggly line mask covering her face from her left temple down to her right cheek.

"Hi," Helena mumbled, sitting up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep so long. Um, who are you?"

"I'm Taffy, miss," she mumbled, her voice shy.

"I'm Helena."

"Yes, I know."

Great. She got up, throwing the covers down. Taffy stepped up, "If you'd like, I can help you dress."

"No," Helena smiled, "I'm okay. Did her Majesty stop by?"

"Yes, she wished for you to join her once you had awoken."

"Great," Helena said. "So…where should I go?"

"I'll take you there as soon as you're ready."

Helena glanced in the mirror and figured it was as good as she was going to get. "Let's go."

"Miss, her Majesty also requested that you wear this while walking around." Taffy held out a mask that would cover Helena's entire face.

She took it, "Why?"

"I'm sure she'll explain. If you'll follow me?"

Helena put it on and followed Taffy down the stairs. For every one step that Helena took, it took Taffy's tiny legs five or six, so the walk took quite a long time.

No one, not the servants, the guards, nor the courtiers, gave her a second look. When Taffy led her down a hall, the Queen even had to take two looks before recognizing her.

"Oh, Helena. Good, you're here. I was hoping you'd awaken before the meeting. Thank you, Taffy."

"What meeting?" Helena asked as Taffy bowed and walked away.

The Queen hesitated until the hall was empty except for the two of them, "You did say you wanted to know what was going on here."

"I do."

"Then follow me, my dear." The Queen turned and entered a door, "You can also take off the mask if you wish. But I believe it will be safer for you if you keep it on when you're in public.

Helena followed the Queen into the small chamber, where the Prime Minister was already waiting with a few others. He stood and smiled at her and Helena felt her smile grow a little warmer. She couldn't help it - he was exactly like her father.

"Helena," the Queen said, "You remember the Prime Minister. This man here is the Judge, the head of our courts. This is Drag, my Captain of the Guard. And our Librarian." Helena nodded to each of them in turn. "You all recall Helena, our Creator."

The Queen took a seat and Helena took the last empty one between the Prime Minister and Drag. Drag wore a very serious uniform and blue hair. It was all very intimidating until she saw his violet eyes. Then it was a little unnerving as well.

"As you are all aware by now, we have increased patrols throughout the City and surrounding borders. Though there has yet to be an actual attack, I fear that it's very near," the Queen said.

"But the Shadow Queen would never begin a war with you," the Librarian said. "The worst she ever did was search for her daughter."

The Queen glanced at the table and the Prime Minister spoke up. "Drag's scouts have confirmed that the Shadow Queen is no longer in charge."

The Judge sighed, "The Princess."

"Yes. Our contacts in the City of Shadows stopped reporting a long time ago," Drag said, his voice gruff. "The few bits of unscripted information we did get mentioned a coup and the Princess wielding strange new powers."

"We've had odd break-ins over the past few years. So varied and strange that we didn't realize they were connected until Drag's second put together a report and showed us the connections," the Queen said.

"What kind of break-ins?" Helena asked.

"A few people have gone missing, Mrs. Bagwell and the Librarian's assistant, Deci," Drag said, reading from a piece of paper. "Shops have been vandalized, with the only things disappearing being the windows or mirrors. Most of the items have been books, from the library."

"Did you bring that list?" the Queen asked the Librarian.

He nodded, pulling out a piece of paper with fifteen or so titles written out. "I didn't realize for a while that they had gone missing. It's not a very popular section. And when I did notice, I thought they'd been mis-shelved, or that Deci had taken them, but when you sent the request..." He passed the list over to her.

Helena leaned over to Drag as the Queen and Prime Minister read over the list, "How are the thefts connected? They sound like all different things."

"Oh, it's not the items that linked them together. It's the fact that every night something disappeared, that damn Tower-"

"Drag," the Prime Minister interrupted. He shook his head, his mask wiggling.

Helena swallowed, already suspecting the truth. Between her last visit and her dream, she knew. "He was here every time something went missing. He's working with the Princess."

The table was quiet for a minute. Helena took that to mean she was correct.

"But," the Prime Minister said, "it's okay now. You're back and with the MirrorMask, we can defeat her easily."

Helena felt her stomach drop even further. "I don't have it. The last time I was here, I gave it to him to give to you." She looked up at the Queen. "I'm guessing he didn't."

"Why would you give something so valuable to someone like Valentine?" the Judge scoffed.

"Because I trusted him."

"He's a conman, a swindler, and a petty thief and he's got the record to prove it."

"He saved my life."

"A young man saving the life of a pretty young girl doesn't mean he's a good man," the Judge said coldly.

"It doesn't mean he's a bad one, either," Helena snapped, clenching her fists beneath the table.

"Regardless of what he did in the past," Drag said, drawing the tension away with his deep voice, "we have to face the fact that a man who knows this City backwards and upwards is now working for the enemy, who is also in possession of one of our most powerful artifacts and has the moral center of a cockroach."

"All of these books are histories," the Queen said.

Helena looked over at her, grateful to have a slight change in subject. The ache at the pit of her stomach wasn't exactly welcome.

"Yes," the Librarian said. "Our creation."

"Why?" the Prime Minister asked.

"I don't know," the Librarian said. "They're old histories that no one ever reads. I don't know what she could possibly want with them."

"How to create a new land?" the Judge suggested.

"Doubtful. She wants to rule over what's already here. Not create someplace new," Drag muttered. "Too much work."

"Perhaps she's trying to travel back to Helena's world?" the Prime Minister said.

"If she has the Mask, it would be simple. And she's done it before," the Librarian said. "She wouldn't need reference materials."

"Maybe not for the traveling," Helena said, glancing at Drag. He seemed like the most level-headed, aside from the Queen. "But maybe some reference materials for the Mask would be useful."

The Librarian tapped his mask, "Now that we know she has the Mask...yes, I believe there would be some record of it in our creations."

"That would have been helpful the first time around," Helena muttered. The corner of Drag's mouth twitched.

The Librarian's eyes tightened beneath his mask. "Indeed."

"Is there a 'How To' guide for the MirrorMask?" Helena asked.

"No, no, of course not," the Librarian said. "But...there are mentions of it in each of the creations. If she put all of it together...perhaps...?"

"Do you know what the histories say about the Mask?" the Prime Minister asked.

The Librarian flushed beneath his mask, "I didn't memorize every book in the library!"

"No one is asking you to do so," the Queen said, soothing the ruffled masks. "I will ask you to collect any of the other histories we have. Today. Before she escapes with anything else that we should know."

She looked pointedly at him when he didn't move. "Now would be best."

"Yes, your Majesty." He stood and bowed, leaving the room.

The Queen sighed and put her chin on her fingers. She closed her eyes and Helena could see the tightness around them. They were the same marks that her mom got when she was stressed. And she knew exactly how to fix it, at least temporarily.

"I'm starving. When's lunch?" Helena asked, ignored the surprised looks from the Prime Minister, the Judge, and Drag.

The Queen, however, smiled. "Right now, actually. Let's break for lunch. We'll come back with full stomachs and new ideas."

They stood and followed the Queen out of the room, Helena falling to the back and slipping her mask back over her face. She fell to the back of the group, not really feeling very hungry. Not after that.

The Princess has the Mask. The information. The assistance of someone who knew this place...backwards and upwards. Stopping at a window, Helena touched the smooth sill, staring out at the fish.

"Just what have you gotten yourself into, juggler?"

* * *

"Just look at what you've gotten yourself into, Val."

Valentine grimaced, his hands tightening on the doorframe, "Can't fault a juggler for trying." He eyed the circle of guards around him and his Tower and stepped down from the stoop.

"Why do you keep trying, Val?" the Princess asked.

"Perseverance in the face of adversity and all that," he muttered. The guards grabbed his arms and pulled him away from the door.

"It's pathetic, Val, really," she sneered, stepping in front of him and staring up at his Tower. "The Queen of the City of Light knows that I'm coming for her. I've got the Mask and the army. Your Helena is gone. There is no one else to stand up to me and you know it. So why bother delaying the inevitable?"

"Because you're a cowardly, manipulative brat?" he spoke without thinking.

The Princess spun on him, her eyes sparking, "What did you say?"

Valentine thought back on his words and laughed to himself. "Huh. Did you want me to repeat it?"

"Your attitude leaves a lot to be desired as of late, Val."

He figured it did. He just couldn't bring himself to care. Helena was gone. Three weeks without any sign of her and her parents just getting more and more depressed. He couldn't stand the mirror anymore. Even if her disappearance had nothing to do with the Princess, he was going to take it out on her.

"Well, I won't let your attitude and pathetic optimism ruin my day. Big things are about to happen, Val."

"Brilliant," he said to himself.

"And you get a front row seat to it all," she said. "Guards, let's go."

Valentine stared as she stepped into his Tower, the guards pulling him in after.

"Where are we going?" he asked her, hating to ask but doing it anyway.

The Princess stepped up to the window, her fingers clutching the sill. "We're going to start a war."

* * *

Three weeks.

Helena'd been here for three weeks without any idea how she'd arrived. They were no closer to stopping the Princess. She hadn't left anything in the Library that would help them. Not a single history was left.

They'd been combing through the rest of the Library, but there was nothing so far. They were only a quarter of the way through the Library and still nothing to show for it. She sat in a corner of the library with her pile of books and feeling a migraine starting in her temples.

"Doing all right?"

Helena glanced up at Drag, who had glanced into her little alcove.

"You know me, can't get enough of this place," she smirked, rifling through the pages of her book.

Drag almost smiled. It was now a personal goal of Helena's to make him smile fully. So far she'd gotten a twitch. It was rough going.

"Are you busy?" he asked.

"Just reading until my eyes fall out, nothing I can't put off."

"This is my second," he said, waving his hand to indicate someone standing to his side. A woman who was just over half Helena's size stepped forward. She had the same shocking blue hair and bright purple eyes.

"Hi," Helena said, putting the book on her chair as she stood. "I'm Helena."

"I know," she said. "I'm Mags."

Helena glanced between the two. "Brother and sister?"

"Yes," Drag said, sounding less than pleased.

"You're his second. So you're the one who put the report together?" Helena asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Mags said.

"Not ma'am. Just Helena. Please."

"Then, yes. Helena."

"Awesome," Helena said. "Nicely done."

"Thanks. Glad someone thinks so." Mags glanced at her brother.

Though she didn't have a sibling, Helena could see what was going on here.

Drag's mouth tightened, "Not the place, second."

"Never the place, first," Mags mimicked poorly.

Helena hid her smile, "Look, guys-"

The explosion rocked the Library, sending Helena's stacks of books to the ground.

"The Princess," Drag said.

"The Queen," Mags said at the same time.

Both of them bolted from the alcove, with Helena hot on their heels. Her mask was already on her face; Helena had gotten used to used to wearing it.

The Queen wasn't in the Library, but on the steps of it. She stood in the front of a large crowd, her face calm and collected, but her shoulders tight. Helena edged up along the side of the crowd, staring at the girl that faced the Queen.

The Princess. Helena's doppelganger. The Tower stood behind her, having crushed a few buildings in order to settle in the City. That must have been the explosion.

"I'm here to arrange your surrender," the Princess said, her voice carrying.

Helena could see the Prime Minister, the Judge, and the Librarian on the steps. Unhelpfully, Helena's eyes were drawn to the crowd behind the Princess. Guards, guards, and more guards. She looked up unto the Tower, but there was no flash of white anywhere to be seen.

"And if we aren't willing to negotiate?" the Queen asked.

"Then you'll all die," the Princess said. "Slowly. Painfully."

Helena felt sick. There was no indication on the Princess' empty face, but Helena could hear the joy in her voice.

"I can kill all of your people. Is that what you want? Is that what your people want?" the Princess asked.

Glancing at the people around her, Helena saw the clenching of fists, the tightening of jaws. She also saw the fear, the sidelong glances at their neighbors, the hope that someone _else_ would say the words. The despair that no one would.

"Will anyone stand up for their Queen? For the woman that asks you to die?" the Princess asked, an evil smile on her face.

Helena bit her lip, the action hidden beneath her mask, and glanced down. She caught a flash of blue at the corner of her eye.

Mags stared at her, with violet eyes that asked the words she wouldn't say.

"No one?" the Princess asked. "Then I'll accept your surrender under the following conditions. First…"

Helena took a half step forward and Mags glanced at her, "Be careful."

As she walked forward, the crowd parted in front of her. It took the Princess a moment to notice the movements. She turned, staring at Helena without recognizing her.

"And who are you, little masked girl?" the Princess sneered.

Helena didn't stop until she was in front of the Queen. She took a breath.

"I'm the one standing up to you," Helena said loudly. "And here, I'm more infamous for not wearing a mask."

She removed her mask, facing the Princess. She ignored the surprise from the crowd behind her.

"You," the shadow girl sneered.

"Me," Helena said. "And we do not surrender. Not to you."

"Then you've just single-handedly started an unnecessary and bloody war."

"No. We're standing up to a cowardly, manipulative, brat."

The Princess drew back like she'd been struck.

"And you speak for everyone?" she asked, recovering her composure.

Helena hesitated and Mags stepped up.

"Yes, she does."

The others swiftly took up Mags' cry and Helena was supported by a vehement crowd.

"You think you can win?" the Princess asked, meaning her words for Helena's ears only.

Helena responded in the same exact tone, "All I know is that you don't deserve this world."

"You will lose. But before you do, I'll make sure you realize the cost of this war," the Princess promised. "You don't even know how much you have to lose."

Helena shook her head, "You don't have to do this. If you walk away now, you can go home. You don't have to hurt people."

"Aww, Hel," the Princess said, tilting her head. "I really do. But I'll tell you what. I will give you one day to evacuate and give up the City to me. Save who you can."

Helena glared, "We won't run away from you."

The Princess laughed, "It wouldn't matter if you did."

The shadow girl turned and walked back towards the Tower, her guards leading her in. "One day. If you're smart, you'll run. If you don't, you'll die. Your choice."

"You're making a mistake," Helena said after her.

The Princess stepped up onto the stoop, standing in the doorway, "So are you. See you tomorrow, Hel." She slammed the door and the Tower lifted up.

Turning back to the Queen, Helena hoped she hadn't done what the Princess has said and made a huge mistake.

The Queen smiled at Helena, tears in her eyes. "Thank you."

Drag and Mags stared at her, until Mags laughed and Drag shrugged, "Let's go to war."

Helena swallowed on the word that choked her.

War.


	6. But it's a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

She was here.

Valentine was still frozen in the armchair in his Tower's living room, the heavy hand of the dead guard staying on his shoulder to keep him in place. His fingers were gripping the arms of the chair so tightly he knew he heard the material rip at least once.

She was here.

An unwilling partner in this venture, Valentine had been hustled into his Tower earlier in the day, the trip here barely taking any time at all. It had been the waiting that wore on him. The incessant pacing of the Princess. The breathless - and he did mean without breath - silence of the guards. He hated waiting. But the glare he'd gotten from the Princess when he pulling out his juggling balls had warned him against any more movement. He ended up sitting in the windowsill, staring out of the only window he had that didn't have bars on it. Then the Princess had made her move, gone against the nature of his Tower and demanded that it land on other buildings. He'd felt the mortar and stonework of his Tower tremble is response, unused to such violent landings, but there wasn't anything that either one of them could do about it.

Valentine left the windowsill when they'd landed, dropping into his armchair, grateful that the Princess hadn't demanded that he come with her outside. He didn't want to face the people he'd known and see the anger and betrayal. He'd be able to handle it, since Valentine's could handle everything, but he wouldn't like it.

He listened to the Princess demand their surrender, heard the painful silence when no one spoke up. He knew what sort of demands that the Princess would make. Homes and money were the least of them. Lives would be demanded and even if they were given, more would be taken away.

He let his head sink back into the armchair, glad that his mask hid most of his face. No one would see the pain as he heard his true Queen surrender to a monster like the Princess. Because she would be one of the lives the Princess demanded, and the Queen would give it freely to protect her people. No one would stand up to the Princess. Not even-

_"I'm the one standing up to you. And here, I'm more infamous for not wearing a mask."_

He'd tried to stand when he heard her voice, the same kind of voice he'd been hearing for the past three years, but this one was filled with emotion. He knew she was trying to be calm, but he heard the depth and color behind it. A depth that the cold voice of the Princess could never reach. The guard had stopped him from going anywhere, let alone near the window to see her. He'd barely heard the words that she'd been saying, but as the door slammed shut behind the Princess, his ears caught up with his brain.

_"A cowardly, manipulative brat."_

Valentine had nearly laughed, his words echoed by Helena, before he'd realized the repercussions of her words.

Helena just started a war with the Princess. The Princess he'd seen single-handedly murder dozens upon dozens of different people and creatures. And Helena just stood up to her and made herself a target for the most murderous person he'd ever met.

But she was _here_.

The guard had relaxed when the door closed behind the Princess, Valentine took the moment to stand up and rush to the window, but they were already too far away for him to see anyone. He stayed there for a moment, ignoring the sound of the Princess walking up behind him.

She waited until he finally turned around, her arms crossed. The guards had left the room already, standing in the Tower's kitchen. Valentine leaned against the sill, the desire to see if he could survive landing from his moving Tower stifled.

"Happy, are you?" the Princess asked.

He shrugged, but he could feel the smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. Yes, he was happy.

"Idiot."

He couldn't help it, he had to get in one jab at least. "About as happy as your mother was."

"That has nothing to do with-"

"She told me, you know. Helena told me that your mother knew Helena wasn't the right daughter. But Helena was such an improvement that she didn't want you back. Not even your mother would take you when she had the choice. At least your mother and I could agree upon something," he told her.

The Princess didn't seem as affected as he'd hoped she would be. In fact, she seemed to be smiling. "You think your life is about to get better. You don't even see the joke, Val."

She smiled her weird, empty smile. "The one thing you actually care about, even more than your own life, was just handed to me."

He didn't show it through the mask, but he knew his knuckles got whiter against the sill.

"She doesn't have the Mask, Val. I do. The one thing that could keep her safe, you handed over to me. Do you know how easy it would be for me to snap her neck, even from here?"

The Princess walked over to him and raised her hand between them. "It wouldn't take more than a thought. A few shadows, a single snap," she snapped her fingers and it took everything for Valentine not to flinch at the sound, "and your little Helena is dead."

He had to bluff, he couldn't let her leave knowing that she was completely right. He prayed to whoever was listening and asked, "Then why don't you just do it?"

"Because seeing you like this," she gestured at his white knuckles and defensive stance in the sill, "this is worth putting up with her for a little while longer." She stepped back and laughed, "Don't you see, Val? I own you more now with her here than if I had sent you to the Choir! Your life isn't about to get better, it's about to get so much worse."

The Princess walked out, leaving Valentine alone in the window. He looked out of it again, the scenery whipping past them.

She was here.

The words didn't sound as victorious this time. They sounded like a eulogy. Helena was here, in this hell-hole of his life and she was about to be used by the Princess to get at Valentine.

He stared at the sill, the desire to step through it resurfacing once more.

But still, she was here...

He moved back from the window, promising himself that if had to make the decision, he would. But he still had a chance now. He wasn't going to waste it.

* * *

The Librarian was livid. "What have you done?!"

"She stood up to a tyrant, which is more than you!"

"Second, back down," Drag ordered.

"Shut up and don't tell me that this wasn't what you wanted!"

"It isn't my decision or about what I want, it's about the fact that she just started a war!"

"A war that wasn't going to be avoided anyway. A war that would have decimated us whether or not we fought back," the Prime Minister said calmly.

"Now we'll all die, instead of some of us."

"Enough," the Queen said, quieting the rabble in her council room. Helena had never felt so small in her life. She kept her shoulders straight though, not giving into the urge that said to hunch them in and become as small as she possibly could.

The Queen looked around at her council, "Did you want to surrender to the Princess?"

"No."

"Of course not, but there had to be another alternative. A treaty, perhaps that-"

"A treaty?" Mags scoffed, "With that brat? Unlikely."

"Second," Drag reprimanded.

"There must have been another way, rather than beginning a war!"

"What other way?" the Queen asked calmly.

Silence.

Sighing, the Queen rubbed her eyes, "There is no negotiating with the Princess. There is no treaty or settlement that she would accept without loss of life. Everyone in this room, in addition to any military forces that we have would have to be eliminated in some way. I do not believe that our army would choose becoming a shadow over the chance for fighting back. War is not the preferred option, but it's the only one we had. We cannot go back and change things, so we should continue forward and figure out what our strategy will be."

"Evacuate the elderly, women, and children," the Prime Minister said immediately.

Drag nodded, "We'll need to reinstate the militiamen in addition to your current army."

The Queen nodded and the Librarian was taking notes.

"I recommend you get out of the castle," the Judge said. "That is most likely the Princess' first target."

"Or Helena," Mags muttered.

Helena glanced at the little guard, giving her a faint smile. She liked the brash, blunt woman.

"The Princess will not enjoy having someone alive who stands up to her," Drag added, in faint agreement with his sister.

"Can you even die?" the Librarian asked.

Helena was a little startled, "I've never tried. But I feel pretty mortal, so I'd rather not test it."

Mags chuckled and the Prime Minister shook his head.

"First things first. Evacuate the civilians to Wesleyton, have them start preparing for the caravan. Next, mobilize the army and the militiamen. The Princess said one day, but I doubt she'll adhere to the timeline. Librarian, collect any possible materials that will aid in our fight or that will help us understand the MirrorMask. Judge, please make sure all those awaiting trials join the evacuation. Anyone wishing to join the militiamen will be given a parole officer and a shortened sentence. Helena and I, along with the rest of the council and any necessary staff will be moved to the Seraph Tavern," the Queen said, sounding completely in control. "We will meet in the main room at sundown, with everyone having completed their preparations."

They all started moving and Helena rose from her seat, unsure of where she was going. "You are with me, Helena," the Queen said, heading out the door. When she went to put on her mask, the Queen stopped her, "I think that, considering the circumstances, it would be better for you to leave it off."

Helena put the mask on the table and followed to Queen for what was to become one of the longest days of her life.

* * *

Valentine stared at the wall, watching the sun move across the plaster of his Tower. They hadn't returned to the City of Shadows, but to a valley just west of the City of Light. He'd been stunned to see the entire army waiting patiently. She'd already moved out her forces, without him even being aware of it. The sheer number of shadowed soldiers overwhelmed him and he wondered if the City of Light had this many people, let alone fighters.

The Princess had left him with a guard for several hours, which is why he found the wall so entertaining. He couldn't really pull out _A Really Useful Book_ , unless he wanted it confiscated. The book was hurtful and irritating, but it was the closest thing he had to a friend here and he wasn't about to lose it.

The sun had just set, leaving Valentine's eyes with no light to chase. He turned his gaze to his window and was startled to see the army straightening up and getting into a very thin formation.

"What's this about?" he asked the guard.

All he got in response was a faint gurgling. Valentine still didn't care for the dead guards, but their constant presence meant they didn't upset him as much as they did at first.

Standing up, Valentine moved towards the window, watching the rest of the army line up. The Princess was walking towards the head of the column, a bag over her shoulder.

Suddenly the door burst open and two living guards entered. "Let's go."

"Go where?" Valentine asked, feeling the concern begin to rise.

They ignored his question, typical, and he was herded past the column to join the Princess up front. She barely glanced at him, more concerned with the large mirror being set up on the field. In the center was one of the windowpanes that she had demanded he retrieve for her. He couldn't remember if it was the one from Mrs. Bagwell's, from the back of the Library, or from the center square.

"What are you doing?" he asked the Princess. He hated being the one to initiate the conversation with her, but he needed to know.

"Hold him," she told the guards blandly. Turning, he saw the MirrorMask in her hands. Oh, no.

They grabbed his arms tightly, holding his face straight. "Get off me!"

"Don't be so irritating," she drawled, lifting the Mask to his face.

He tried to move his face away, but the guards held him fast until the MirrorMask rested on his skin and over his real mask. He hated the feel of the cold metal encasing him. He couldn't breathe, barely see, he felt trapped and-

The Princess pulled it away. "Done."

Valentine calmed his heart rate as the guards released him. "What're you playing at?" he asked.

"I'm making sure I have the advantage," she told him. She turned and placed the Mask on the mirror. The surface rippled and quivered, distorting her reflection. When it smoothed out, Valentine didn't see the Princess. He saw the City of Light, just outside the Library. "Let's move," she ordered her army.

"You said they had a day!" Valentine shouted, held back by the guards once more.

"I lied." The Princess was smiling as her armies started stepping through the mirror and right into the City of Light. The Queen would never expect an attack from within, how could she?

"You can't do this."

She laughed, "Funny, because it appears I am. Take him back to his Tower and make sure he doesn't leave until we return. If he tries to run or move his Tower, kill him." Valentine's guards hastened to obey. The Princess pointed at one of the dead guards walking past her and ordered, "You, come here."

Glaring at the direction of his Tower, Valentine fumed and panicked and hated and plotted and was coming up with nothing. How could she so blatantly break her word like that? How many lives were going to be lost because of her lie? The army was vanishing through the mirror and soon there was silence. He hadn't noticed the faint humming sound until it stopped.

He glanced back at the Princess, wishing that he could stop her and-

Valentine saw himself standing next to the Princess.

He stopped in his tracks, managing to halt the guards for a breath with sheer stubbornness.

The Princess met his eyes and smiled her empty smile, patting the other Valentine on the shoulder.

_"I'm making sure I have the advantage."_

He didn't know much, but he knew that this fake Valentine would not do what he would. He knew that the sight of a friend would cause certain people to hesitate. People with big hearts and who tended to forgive and who knew he was an awful, awful man but gave him second chances anyway.

"No!" he shouted, somehow dragging his guards a few steps back towards the Princess. "Don't do this!"

She laughed at him and stepped into the pile of shadows at her feet, the fake Valentine vanishing with her.

The valley was empty except for a now dark mirror, Valentine, and his two guards. There was no way to go after her. No way to warn anyone what was coming for them.

He barely noticed as he was shuffled towards his Tower and shoved into the armchair. He stared at the wall, feeling the edges of _A Really Helpful Book_ digging into his chest, but unable to open it up to find any wisdom. Glancing at the clock, he realized it'd only been six minutes since the army, the Princess, and the fake Valentine had left.

This had to be the longest night of his life.

* * *

They were _late_.

Helena was hot on the Queen's heels as they traversed the silent and winding streets of the City of Light. The evacuation had been completed, but they had to check every corner of the castle for stragglers before the Queen consented to leave. Helena ended up yelling at Taffy and her older sister when they claimed that there was no safer place for them than the castle. They two servants had burst into tears and then it was up to the Queen to console them before they could leave. Right now, they jogged behind Helena and the Queen, their tiny legs taking more effort to keep up.

Because of the delay, the sun had already gone down by the time they left. The Queen hadn't seemed upset, but Helena was biting her lip to keep from screaming at all of them to go faster.

When she heard panting, Helena turned back to see Taffy's sister...Talia? nearly doubled over as she ran. Helena stopped and pulled Talia over her shoulders in a piggyback, ignoring the girl's squeal. "No, Miss Helena this is most improp-"

"Don't care. We need to get the Queen to safety as fast as possible," Helena grumbled.

"We're almost there," the Queen said, barely sounding put out. "We just need to get past the Library and-"

The Queen froze and broke off, throwing out her arm to keep Helena and Taffy from going on. Helena glanced over the Queen's shoulder and couldn't believe her eyes.

She knew that the Princess wasn't going to wait. That's why she was so concerned now. But she hadn't expected them to be coming out through a window in the Library! Soldier after soldier filed out of the window, following the already long line of men in a roundabout route towards the City gate.

"They're going to surprise our troops," the Queen breathed. "Drag must be warned. He won't expect an attack from within."

Three weeks had left Helena with a basic understand of the City's layout. Enough to know that the tavern was much closer than the wall. "You need to go to the tavern and warn the other council members. Is there another way out of the City?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then you need to go. I'll go to the wall and warn Drag."

"We can't risk you-"

"You don't have a choice," Helena said, putting Talia on the ground. "Tell me how to get to the wall and-"

"I'll take you," Taffy whispered, pale but resolute. "I know a way to avoid the Princess' army."

"Are you sure?" Helena asked.

"Yes."

Helena glanced at the Queen, who sighed, but nodded. "Fine. I'll meet you in Wesleyton."

The Queen stopped her when Helena moved to leave, "Be careful."

"Of course," Helena said. She even managed a grin, though her hands were shaking. "Come on, Taffy."

The little woman led the way with Helena right behind her. The army was still pouring out of the window. She didn't notice the tiny paces when she was more focused on keeping as silent as possible. If the Princess' men though they'd been discovered, they might break ranks and go after anyone in reach, like Taffy, or Talia and the Queen.

Once they were far enough away from the army's entry point, Taffy broke into a run. She seemed to know exactly what routes would parallel, but not join up with the army's route. Helena was grateful for her guidance, as she would have been lost in the back alley mazes. Ten minutes of completely silent, heart-pounding running and Helena saw the wall up ahead. There were no shadow soldiers in sight.

Taffy took Helena the opposite direction from the gate, to one of the mostly hidden staircases up to the wall. It was guarded, but one look at Helena's face the guards stepped aside. "Where's Drag?" she asked.

"Just to the left."

Helena climbed up the stairs as quickly as possible, amazed at the restraint of Drag's men. They were all silent, creating no light or noise to draw their attention away. Helena found her blue-haired companion in moments. He looked startled to see her there, which is more of a reaction than she had ever gotten.

"Helena, what-"

"They're already in the City," Helena interrupted, her voice hushed.

The silent guards around them became, if possible, even quieter.

"How?" Drag asked. No nonsense about how she could know that or disbelief or anything. Just straight to business.

"Through a window in the Library. I have no idea how, but there's a lot of them and they're heading this way."

"The Queen?"

"On her way to the Seraph to warn the others. She said there was another way out."

"Indeed there is." Drag turned to the guard next to him. "Seal the gates, keep them in the City to allow the evacuation to finish." The command flew through the ranks of soldiers and it was only seconds before Helena heard the sound of the crank to seal the gates.

"It's too dangerous for us to move you through the City," Drag said to her, only sparing a glance for Taffy. "You'll have to wait until they've been driven back."

"Okay," Helena said, the adrenaline already pumping through her.

"Get her mail. And a sword," Drag ordered.

The items were quickly presented to Helena, who slipped the heavy links over her head and held the unfamiliar weapon. "I've never used a sword."

"No time for a real lesson," Drag said. "I'll send you down to Mags, she'll look out for you."

Things were happening so quickly that Helena felt nine steps behind. She was being shuffled along the wall with Taffy right behind her.

"Helena," Drag called out, his voice carrying. She turned back to him.

"Stab them with the pointy end," he suggested.

Helena smiled and nodded. She followed her guides until she caught sight of another blue-haired companion. Mags just smiled when she saw her. "I thought you'd end up here."

"Wasn't my intention," Helena said, helping Taffy into the faint shelter of an alcove. "The Princess' army-"

"Is inside the City. I know." She shrugged when Helena gave her a startled look. "My brother may be irritating, but his regiments are the most finely tuned soldiers you'll ever meet."

Helena agreed with that and looked around. "What happens now?"

"The worst part. Waiting. They'll be here soon. Faster once they realize the gate is closed."

"And what do I do?"

"Stay back and try not to get killed," Mags said.

"Awesome," Helena muttered.

Turns out, they weren't waiting that long. The soldiers poured out of the nearby houses and alleys so quietly that Helena thought she was imagining it until she heard Drag yell. It was a huge sound, clear even from this distance. "For the Light!"

Mags echoed it, making Helena's ear ring. Arrows shot off of the wall, dropping soldiers in droves. But some of them got back up. Then they found the stairs and were on the wall and it was pure chaos.

As an afterthought, Helena wasn't sure that with Mags was the best place for her to be. Mags liked being in the middle of the action, someplace that Helena had no right being in. She found herself face to face with black-eyed soldiers who wanted to kill her.

Desperation saved her too many times to count. A lunge, a stab, a shove. Helena didn't think she actually killed anyone, but shoving them over the wall and down to the soldiers waiting below proved very effective. She made sure that she was always at Mags' side and in front of Taffy, the poor girl crunched up into a corner, terrified out of her mind.

A sound from the side made Helena spin, her sword easily blocked by Drag. He exchanged no pleasantries. "We've pushed them back enough. The others are clear. Let's get out."

"But the City-" Mags protested.

"The City is not the concern," Drag told her. "People are. Go."

With a single, curt nod, Mags led Helena and Taffy alongside the soldiers and militiamen. Parts of the City were already utterly decimated and Helena was glad that the citizens managed to get out before now. They kept up a fast pace, the sounds of fighting getting rarer and rarer the farther they got from the gate. They were just passing the burning remnants of the Seraph Tavern when a sudden pulse made them pause. The soldiers shifted, looking for the enemy, nearly silent except for faint murmured questions. Helena peered into the darkness around her, something shifting so slightly that she barely saw it.

The light from the remains of the tavern revealed the tendrils, sneaking along the ground, near invisible in the dark.

"Shadows!" Helena yelled. "Run!"

The soldiers took off, forcing Taffy and Helena to keep pace in the center of their squadron. Everyone knew that they couldn't fight the shadows, only run.

A man screamed behind Helena and she flinched, grabbing Taffy's arm to keep her moving forward. More screams burst through the air as the shadows caught up and took out the soldiers one by one. She didn't dare look back, terrified to see the wall of darkness engulfing her.

Mags and Drag were neck and neck ahead of her, their boots pounding in unison. They led the way unerringly, cutting between two shops via a tiny alley. As they turned a corner, Helena pushed to keep up, when a wall of shadows cut her off. She backed up, pulling Taffy into the store next to her, shoving their way through aisles and shelves to reach another door. It to a staircase and Helena didn't stop to think that it might be a worthless route. She pounded up the stairs, half-carrying Taffy.

They got to the roof and Helena immediately saw that the building they were on was completely surrounded by shadows. They were leeching up the sides of the walls so soon only the roof would be safe. Then, not even that. The building next to them had a fire escape off the roof and down into an alley that was still clear of shadows for the moment. Helena saw all of this and yet didn't make a move.

On top of the other roof stood a familiar figure, draped in white and motioning for her to jump.

"Miss?" Taffy asked, staring at the juggler.

"I don't know," Helena mumbled. He was supposed to be the villain, but he looked so much like she remembered him. So much like her best friend.

"We don't have many other options," the little woman said under her breath.

"He might hurt you."

"Well, these shadows definitely will."

"Helena!" he shouted, the accented voice piercing straight to her core. "Hurry!"

She bit the proverbial bullet and climbed onto the roof's ledge, pulling Taffy onto her back. Before she could explain why this was a horrible idea, she jumped across the alley and landed painfully on the opposing roof.

He came closer and Helena forced herself to her feet, still wary.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "but we'd best be moving on before these shadows do."

"What are you doing here?" she asked him. "What are you doing with the Princess?"

"It's all an act. I didn't want to help, I promise."

Helena was suspicious, but she so wanted to believe him.

He walked forward, holding out his hand to Taffy, who was still on the ground, shaken from their flight. Keeping his dark eyes trained on Helena, he helped Taffy to her feet, "I'm sorry, Helena."

No. "No!"

Helena jumped forward, screaming and grasping for Taffy as he swung the small girl out over the roof's ledge and shoved her into the clouds of shadows below. Helena heard something shatter on the stones and knew that Taffy was gone.

"Bastard," Helena whispered, blinking back tears.

He moved forward, his hands reaching out for her. Helena brought her sword up, slicing along his robes and into his chest. She felt the blade hit, but there was no red smear on his robes or her sword. Nothing to prove that she had wounded him.

Helena stumbled back, unsure what she was facing. What had the Princess done to him? He kept advancing and Helena panicked, shoving the blade up and releasing it.

He stood there, silent, the sword protruding from his chest. She stared in shock as he grabbed the hilt and pulled the sword out of his rib cage. It was still completely clean. Her nerve broken, Helena ran to the fire escape, hearing feet pounding behind her. She reached the ladder and had just decided to take her chances and jump-

-a line of fire exploded along her back and into her chest, stopping her breath. Helena turned, seeing his empty hands and cold eyes. Then she fell.


	7. When you seem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

When Valentine heard the signs of the Princess' army returning, he jumped up from his chair. It was his first movement in hours and managed to startle the dead guard just enough that Valentine evaded his grasp and got down the stairs. He ran through the ranks of guards, none of them even glancing at him.

He got to the end of the line, where the Princess and the other Valentine were returning. Valentine watched the other, worser, him lift off the edge of his own face. With a ripple, Valentine vanished, being replaced with a dead guard. He handed the Princess a wrapped object, the Mask resting on top of it, and marched off, not before Valentine saw the guard's sliced armor. It looked like someone had thoroughly trounced the false Valentine. The other Valentine - no, the real Valentine, he was glad that the Princess' plan hadn't worked.

It still disturbed him, however, to see the Princess smirking. "Here, Val. Picked this up for you."

She handed him a long wrapped object. He took it, at a loss for anything else to do.

"It's Helena's," she told him.

Valentine watched the Princess leave, not remotely concerned about him. He glanced down at the object in his hands, pulling the burlap off of it. When it lay bare, Valentine stared down at it, unable to get his brain functioning for a moment.

It was a sword without a sheath, the blade smeared with copper stains.

Valentine tried to figure out what it meant. The guard had been injured, but he hadn't seen any signs of blood. He wasn't even sure if the dead guards bled. And this was a lot of blood. A deadly amount of blood. Only the living could bleed and-

_"It's Helena's."_

His fingers shook as they tightened around the sword. The fake Valentine had done it. He'd hurt Helena by pretending to be him. Just one day after standing up to this monster and Helena was gone. Nothing Valentine could say or do or think or juggle could bring her back. He felt hot and cold at the same time. There was a roaring in his ears and he clenched his eyes closed, hoping that if he opened them again, the blade would be clean.

It wasn't. It blurred in front of his eyes, but it was still red.

She'd been out there, apparently. Fighting. Or at least in the thick of battle. Why had the Queen put her out there? Helena wasn't trained or-

Not that it would have mattered. The Princess had smuggled them into the City. It wouldn't have mattered if Helena had been in the process of evacuating or fighting or running. The army had been dropped right in the middle of the City, without warning. After they'd been promised a day to get out.

Valentine found that his fingers had wrapped around the sword's hilt, holding it properly though he could count on one hand the number of times he'd held a weapon. Or even seen one. Suddenly, without his say-so, his feet were moving, chasing after the false Princess. He couldn't quite say the exact moment he caught on to his brain's motives, but when Valentine finally figured it out, he was in complete agreement.

He was going to kill the Princess. The best part was, it was so completely daft, so mind-bogglingly mental, so incredibly insane and shockingly suicidal, that she would never see it coming.

He lifted the blade, just mere yards away from her. He was taller than her, so it was actually quite easy to aim downwards and sideways, to cleave her head from her shoulders. There wasn't anything she could do to avoid it. He would still hit her even she managed to move.

In the seconds before his blade cut flesh, Valentine realized that he was grinning.

He also realized a moment after it happened that he hadn't considered another possible option. His sword slashed into the dead guard at the Princess' side, who moved faster than Valentine thought possible. Immediately as the sword struck flesh, the spider on Valentine's wrist sliced deeply. He would have dropped the sword, had it not embedded itself somewhere between the guard's shoulder and neck.

The Princess turned and Valentine saw a brief moment of shock on her face. Did she really believe that he didn't want her gone?

He couldn't follow that train of thought much farther, clutching his wrist and trying not to collapse. She glanced at his sword, "Bone is so much more difficult. If you knew any better, you would have gone through the softer bits."

Valentine muttered out a collection of swears, too distracted to pay any attention.

"Language, juggler," she told him, squeezing his wrist harder before relaxing the spider's grip.

The dead guard walked away, the sword still sticking out of him. Valentine felt warm trails working their way down his hand as he straightened, cradling his wrist.

"Are you a little upset, Val?" she asked him.

He wasn't going to give in. He wasn't going to amuse her by arguing or speaking. Valentine turned on his heel and started off.

"Val!" she called after him. He ignored her.

He could not, however, ignore the shadows that snaked around his arms and ankles, stopping him completely. The Princess walked in front of him, eyeing his unusually silent self. "What's gotten into you?"

He felt an unhappy desire to laugh in her face, but it would only encourage her. "Let me go."

"Go where, Val?"

"Anywhere else that isn't here."

"You're being a tad overdramatic, aren't you?" she said, canting her head.

"Piss off."

"Val, you really need to control your language. It's not becoming." She glanced at her nails, "With the Creator gone, the rest of the City of Light will soon fall. Soon, I'll have everything."

"Brilliant. Let go."

She sighed, "If we two are going to be the only ones left, don't you think you should try to be civil?"

At this, Valentine did laugh. Loud, harsh noises that had absolutely nothing to do with humor. His chest and eyes were burning, but he just kept laughing. He must have managed to unnerve the Princess, because he found that the shadows on his skin slunk away, leaving him free again. He didn't move just yet, but dragged in a deep breath to try and control himself, "Princess, if we two are the last ones left, I promise you it won't be that way for long."

"With Helena gone, there's nothing better for you. Just me."

"Then I'll take the nothing!" he shouted, feeling a little satisfaction as she jumped slightly.

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to gain control over the situation, "Watch it, Val. You're walking a very thin line. Your veiled threats are-"

"Who said anything about veiled?" he interrupted, too far gone to listen to whatever vague sense he had left. "I want you dead. Even if everyone else is gone or shadows, and it's just the two of us, I'll never stop trying to get rid of you. There is no ending where you get what you want. No way in which you'll force me or anyone else into caring about you. If I have to end my own life to prove that you can't get your twisted happy ending, then I'll do it with a smile."

He took a step forward and she took one back. Valentine enunciated his next words very carefully, certain that she wouldn't miss anything. "You disgust me."

She raised her hand, shadows swirling with sparks in her palm. Oh good, he'd managed to piss her off.

Valentine went for for the throat then, leaning forward, "And even though she's gone, you're still only second best."

The Princess snarled at him, the shadows reaching towards him with miniscule tendrils. Valentine didn't move, staring right into her black eyes and hoping she knew exactly how he was feeling at this moment.

She clenched her fist and the shadows vanished. "Death is too good for you, Val," she told him. "I believe you. But I also know when to get rid of dead weight."

Valentine rolled his eyes, not that she could see, and stalked off. For a moment, he forgot what started the whole altercation, but as soon as he hit the door to his Tower, he remembered again.

He thumped into his armchair, ignoring the rattle of the dead guard. He assumed it was some kind of reprimand. He leaned his head back against the wing of the armchair, the burning behind his eyes getting worse.

A faint image swirled behind his closed lids. Brown hair, hazel eyes, a face that wasn't like any other face he'd ever seen before. And now she was gone.

There went the only hope this world had. And he couldn't help but feel responsible for everything. He really was an awful, awful man.

* * *

Helena hated this.

She grimaced as she sat up, the pain in her shoulders and back nearly sending her back to the ground, but she was too stubborn to let it happen.

She should have died, according to everyone's reports. Drag said she fell from the building and it was only the painful help of the ladder that kept her from smashing on the ground. It also managed to knock the sword loose from her body, though that might have done more harm than good. When she did hit the ground, it was luckily not in such a way that she broke anything, which is a minor miracle. The major miracle was that Drag and Mags had still been nearby and pulled her away from the encroaching shadows, and the fake Valentine that had been climbing down the ladder. Somehow, the trio had escaped the City before it was destroyed, along with about forty of the Queen's army. That would have been impressive, had they not begun with over a thousand.

The Princess' first attack had been devastating.

Helena got to her door and opened it up, seeing the crowds moving around on the streets. Wesleytown was not fit for all of the Queen's refugees and they'd created a sort of perpetual market to keep everyone covered. Tents lined the streets as what was left of the guard attempted to create some sort of defense.

Helena clung to the door frame for a few moments, breathing in the fresh air to steady her spinning head.

"What are you doing up?"

Helena bit back a groan. Talia had appointed herself Helena's personal caretaker, despite Helena's hand in her sister's death. Neither one of them had talked about it, not after the first night. But Helena still felt guilty every time she looked at the tiny woman.

It had been two weeks without an attack from the Princess and Helena knew they were working on borrowed time. She had to get somewhere to see the Queen or the council or someone. She didn't know what she was going to say or do, but she hated lying here being useless.

Someone, however, had made it their personal mission that she do just that.

"Get back into bed. You aren't ready," Talia demanded.

"I'm fine," Helena argued.

"Queen's orders. She'll come and see you later, but you have to be here and lying down."

Helena clenched her fist, not wanting to yell but...wanting to yell. "Please? I'm going crazy in here doing nothing."

"That's why I brought you a present," Talia said. She reached behind her and got a package that was leaning against the wall. She handed it to Helena with some effort (it was nearly as tall as her).

Helena opened the plain brown paper to find a large sketch pad and pencils. She was surprised that Talia had been so thoughtful. "Thank you."

"Not me, the Queen," Talia said. "She hoped this would keep you busy enough until she got here."

Helena didn't want to admit it, but it would probably work. She hadn't really drawn in ages. Maybe it would help her clear her head of images of jugglers and swords. She hugged the notepad and headed back inside her room. Just before the door shut, she heard Talia heave a sigh of relief.

* * *

Valentine sat in his armchair, unsure what day it was. He knew it had been at least four days, but he was sure more had passed when he wasn't paying attention. He'd been left alone in his Tower, having not moved in several days, no one felt the need to watch over him. Valentine was sure that there would be someone outside the door, but he didn't have the heart or energy to get up and go look.

He kept staring out his window, wondering when the Tower would be told to go and do something. The end was inevitable. He just had to make up his mind if he was going to go after the Princess or just off himself and keep her from getting her twisted fairy tale ending. The former would be harder but more satisfying. The latter was easier and could happen right now.

Something rustled against his chest and Valentine pulled out _A Book of Useful Things_ and opened it up, barely reading what it had to say.

_In the end one needs more courage to live than to kill himself._

"Yeah, well," he murmured, his voice hoarse with disuse. "Don't have any courage."

The _Book_ fluttered at him in annoyance and Valentine found that he didn't feel quite so numb any more, "What do you want from me? She's gone. She's the one that you should have been with. Not me. I'm not the Creator and the maskless one or anything. I'm just me."

Snapping across his knuckles the _Book_ opened again, _A_ _nything worth having is worth fighting for._

"I don't have anything. So go find somebody who does. Somebody who's got a reason to keep going, because the option I have right now is to off myself sooner or later. So...piss off and go find somebody else."

_It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for; I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill._

Valentine sighed, letting his head fall back. "What do you want me to do?"

_Knowledge is power._

"Wonderful. See how much power I have. I know about the Mask, but I can't do anything about it from here. Go bother someone who can help."

**_In vain have you acquired knowledge if you have not imparted it to others._ **

"Who am I supposed to tell? Who _can_ I tell, stuck here."

The Book flipped open to an empty page.

Valentine stared at the crisp page. He could write it all here. The Book could get out. He didn't know where it would go, but it might get to someone who could help. And if not, he'd at least have the knowledge out there. It made sense.

Still, his fingers shook as he reached for a pencil. What if he was caught? What if the Princess found out? The Book sensed his hesitation and flipped once more.

_All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing._

Valentine nearly smiled. Well, what could she do? Kill him? He grabbed the pencil and turned back to the empty page, writing out all he knew.

_MirrorMask: Can copy things and people. Can let you imitate people. Can open gates between worlds. Can allow travel between worlds without replacing the alternate world's person. Can ward off Shadow powers._

His hands shook, one ear tilted towards the door to make sure no one was approaching, and hissing at the book, "You can't tell anyone until they ask. Otherwise they won't believe it. They'll think it's a trap. You have to tell them only when they ask. Understand me?"

It flapped at him and Valentine took it as an answer. "Brilliant book, you are," Valentine muttered, closing it and taking _A Really Useful Book_ , taking it into the corner by the window.

"You're an unhelpful, unfreindly, most condescending, aloof book I have ever come across and I never want to see your cover ever again," Valentine said, throwing it out the window. The book fell a few yards before halting and beginning its hover back to the Library. Valentine watched it go, flicking the pencil out the window as well. "Now, just have to hope you make it to your Librarian."

* * *

Helena pushed someone aside, ignoring the shout of annoyance. She didn't bother with the mask. Most people knew she was here and the Princess would have to be telepathic to find her in this mess. Anyway, this was more important.

She was panting already, her back and shoulders hating the movements of running and being bumped. Talia was behind her, for once not trying to keep Helena from moving, but still regretting that it needed to be done. "Be careful! Your stitches might tear!"

Helena was pretty certain they already had, but she didn't say anything. The inn had been delegated to the Queen and most of the council. Helena was on her own because she needed to heal. Now was not the time for healing, though.

She finally got to the back door - and silently thanked Talia for knowing about it so she didn't have to fight the tide that was on the street in front - and pounded on the door. She kept at it, refusing to be ignored until it was finally thrown open. Drag blocked the way, moving from on edge guard to concerned friend in a split second. "Helena, you shouldn't be up and about like this, you're-"

"I need to see the Queen. Right now," Helena said, pushing aside the cramp that had formed.

Drag stared at her, then nodded. "All right." He led her inside, making sure the door was bolted. Helena followed him into the main room, where the entire council was gathered.

The Queen rose as Helena entered, "What are you doing? You can't be healed yet."

"I know how to help," Helena said, moving the sketchpad from under her arm and laying it on the table.

"What's this about?" the Librarian asked. "This is a meeting and-"

"Just shut up for a second, okay?" Helena muttered, flipping to an empty page and grabbing the pencil.

Mags chuckled from her place next to her brother.

Quick long strokes had Helena creating a box in just a minute. She ripped it out and let the paper fall to the floor. The Librarian didn't remain quiet.

"This is ridiculous. A waste of our..."

He trailed off as Helena's drawing appeared as a real thing, the paper vanishing into the ground as if it had never existed. The Queen picked up the fully functioning box, "Amazing."

"Not just amazing. Do you know what this means?" Drag said, almost sounding excited. "Weapons, better armor, a more secure area..."

Helena flipped to the next page and showed him what she had sketched out, "You're not thinking big enough. I can create more soldiers. A bigger, better army with weapons this place has never even thought about before."

Even the Librarian seemed impressed, "We might actually have a chance, but it would mean a lo-"

SMACK!

A red blur clocked the Librarian upside the head. Drag and Mags both jumped up, thinking it was an attack, but Helena recognized it. " _A_ _Book of Useful Things_!"

"It must have gone to it's last owner, since my Library isn't..." the Librarian trailed off.

She reached up and grabbed it, the book shuddering in her hand for a moment before relaxing into her palm and falling open.

_Things are never quite as scary as when you have a best friend._

"I missed you, too," Helena said. She closed the _Book_ and traced the spine, remembering the last time she'd been with it.

"What do we do now?" Mags asked, glancing from the book to the notepad to Helena.

"It appears we have all the tools we'll need to defeat the Princess," the Queen said.

The Prime Minister smiled, "So we just need a plan."

It was silly, but with her notebook and now _A_ _Book of Useful Things_ , Helena felt unbeatable.


	8. To be walking into the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"Make the neck guard a little higher."

"And that seam right there should be filled in."

Helena made the corrections on her paper, presenting it to Mags and Drag for another review. "What do you think?"

Drag nodded. "I think it looks good."

"Best soldiers I've ever seen," Mags added.

"All right," Helena said, ripping out the page. "Let's give it a go."

She dropped it to the ground and the metal soldier appeared in front of them. At seven feet high, with multiple arms and the fastest legs she could draw, this was a killing machine.

The very best part was that it was completely metal. No one would get hurt if these soldiers were destroyed. They were lifeless. Helena shifted, still feeling the faint pain of her stitches pulling. They wouldn't be killed or injured.

Mags pulled our her sword and grinned at the giant. "I'm going to take him out and put him through the paces."

She started by running off, testing the soldier's speed. It followed, passing her within moments.

Drag and Helena kept an eye on her and Helena sighed. It had taken about a week to get everything right. The size, the speed, the weapons. In the meantime Wesleyton had been abandoned. It had been a preemptive move by the Queen of Light. Everyone knew that the Princess could and would attack at any time. Part of the reason it had taken so long to perfect her metal soldiers was because Helena was also creating a veritable city of tents for everyone to live in as they moved across the Land of Light. They hadn't been moving towards or away from the Princess, but moving parallel, preparing for the day they would be able to attack.

"So far, so good," Drag commented, watching Mags test the soldier's swordsmanship. Helena saw the blade flash back and forth so quickly she could barely follow. When the machine disarmed Mags, Helena knew they had a winner.

"Excellent," Drag murmured.

Helena finally said what had been on her mind for the past few days. "I want to learn how to fight."

Drag didn't comment, so she took that as a maybe and continued. "I know we've got these soldiers now, but we saw when they first attacked, that the Princess might not be just going after soldiers. The rest of us need to know how to defend ourselves as well. I want to be able to fight back."

Still staring out at his sister, Drag said, "Mags has been itching to do the same. Teach others how to defend themselves. I believe she petitioned the Queen to start a class, teaching the basics. I think that would be a good beginning for you. If you show promise, perhaps we could arrange for you to be challenged more."

Internally, she was cheering, although she didn't show it on her face. "Thanks."

* * *

Valentine never asked for permission. He was just tired of doing nothing. Movement after weeks of so much apathy must have left the guard unprepared. When Valentine stood up and walked out the door, the guard had to run after him.

He walked unerringly over to where the few living soldiers practiced and exercised. He stood at the back and joined in without ever uttering a word. When they used swords, Valentine used a stick. When they sparred with one another, Valentine watched and mimicked the moves he saw.

His exercise was apparently viewed as innocent enough. The Princess came by and watched him for a while, but never ordered him back to his Tower.

It wasn't about learning how to fight, not at first. It was about keeping his mind busy and off the bloody sword that always infested his dreams. He exercised every day, going until the sweat made his shirt stick to his skin. He didn't wear his robe outside. No matter how cold it was to begin with, he always made sure he moved long and hard enough to get unpleasantly warm.

He didn't notice the aching from working out. He didn't notice the bloody knuckles from doing the same punches over and over again. He didn't notice the pain when he took a turn too hard or a lunge too deep. He didn't notice, as the weeks wore on, when the other soldiers were unable to keep going as long as he did. He didn't even notice when the living commander began correcting his movements.

He did notice the Princess lurking around their practices more often. He had been allowed to start sparring with the other soldiers (with a wooden sword, only), and had successfully disarmed one of the veterans. He wasn't sure how it happened, but he knew he started moving and then the veteran was suddenly without a sword.

"Nicely done," the commander murmured, not drawing too much attention to it.

Valentine nodded and the commander and veteran moved away. The Princess was standing a few yards back, watching their match. She stared at Valentine for a moment before turning and walking away.

Even though her eyes were little more than black pits, Valentine had liked part of what he'd seen. Concern. It certainly wasn't for him. It was for herself.

The other part, he wasn't so pleased with. It was similar to the look he'd gotten when she had pretended to be...someone else. Except this time it was much darker.

It was at that moment that Valentine decided he wanted to learn how to fight. Not just to keep busy, but to really learn.

He figured he was going to need it.

* * *

"Get up!"

Helena pushed off the ground and back onto her feet as quickly as she could, trying to avoid another deafening shout. Her sword was in guard position as she faced down her personal blue-haired nightmare.

Mags was merciless. Helena, who was an athletic girl, who could juggle and bend and do things that most other people couldn't, had never been so exhausted in her life. For the past two weeks, Helena's life had consisted of drawing hundreds of metal soldiers (all under the sharp eye of either Mags or Drag, who made sure Helena kept the same design) and letting Mags torture her from morning 'til night.

At least she wasn't the only one. About two dozen others joined the optional self-defense course. The actual defending was perfected through hours of attacking. Mags beat them black and blue just to teach them a simple rule-

Never drop your sword.

Helena hadn't dropped it when Mags had thrown her over her shoulder. She didn't drop it when Mags flew forwards. She didn't drop it when the woman attacked her. Helena twisted her sword beneath Mags's, just like she'd been taught day in and day out, and wrenched the sword out of her grip.

Helena didn't drop it when Mags grinned and said, "Good."

At the end of the day, Helena and four others who had begun the class with her were sent on to Drag. He looked at each of them in turn, lingering for a half a breath more on Helena, before saying, "You've just graduated from civilians to soldiers, if you choose."

Not one of the five declined.

"Welcome to the City Guard."

* * *

"Absolutely not," Drag said firmly.

It was the most emotion Helena had managed to get out of him, but she couldn't appreciate it at the moment. Helena was standing in front of him, her hair tangled down her back, still in her black and blue uniform of the City Guard. Drag's helmet was under his arm and the Queen watched both of them with more than a little concern.

"Everything you've told me to, I've done," Helena argued back, her own voice rising. "I'm one of the best you have. I deserve to be on the front lines with the others!"

"You are the Creator."

"Even more reason for me to be out there, then."

Drag glared at the Queen, "A little help, Your Majesty?"

Helena looked at the Queen as well, hoping she would see Helena's point. She'd been training as a City Guard for a month - a _month_! They had a sizable metal army that was going to be put to the test in a few days. The Princess had burned Wesleyton to the ground, but there hadn't been anyone still living there. Since then, it had been quiet from the Princess's end, while the Queen and her supporters were working day and night to get their army ready.

Drag had announced the Guard that only those who could pass his tests would be allowed on the fronts lines. With the metal giants, the danger was decreased, but it was still there.

Helena had passed every test he'd thrown at her and now he was telling her she was to stay behind in the camp.

The Queen sighed, "It is a risk, having you out on the front lines."

"The Princess thinks I'm dead. Anyone would. When I'm in the uniform and helmet, no one knows who I am. I won't be in any more danger than anyone else out there," Helena argued.

The Queen looked at Drag. "You did say those who passed your tests would be allowed."

"She's compromised!" Drag shouted.

Helena and the Queen blinked, shocked at Drag's temper, which no one had seen before. Then his words sank in.

"I am not comp-"

"What about Valentine?" Drag interrupted her.

Helena drew back, the juggler's name having been absent from her vocabulary since she had arrived back in the MirrorWorld. She collected herself. "What about him?"

"You can't even hear his name! Do you think you could face him on the battlefield and wound him? Kill him?" Drag shot at her.

"Well, he tried to kill me," Helena said, trying to keep her voice light. "I think it's only fair that I do my best to-."

"Do you still have feelings for him?" Drag interrupted coldly.

Helena swallowed. They would know if she lied. "I don't know. The man I met the first time, my friend...yeah. I still care about him. But the man I faced on the roof is a completely different person."

Drag wasn't convinced.

"Look," Helena ran her fingers through her hair. It had gotten even longer since being here. "I don't want to kill anyone. If I found him in battle, I would try to stop him without killing him, just like I would do for anyone else. I don't want to kill people, but if I have to, I'll do it."

"Your Majesty-"

"She has a point," the Queen said smoothly. "You made the deal with your soldiers and Helena achieved what you asked."

Drag saluted her with some vehemence and stalked out of the tent.

Helena didn't like fighting with Drag, especially when he was her commanding officer. But at the same time, she knew she was right. "Thank you."

The Queen nodded. "He is a good man. But he worries."

"I know." Helena turned to leave.

"Don't disappoint him. Or me."

Helena nodded and left the tent.

Mags, Nodd, and Laurel were waiting for her when she got out.

"How'd it go?" Laurel asked. She was one of the others who graduated from Mags's self defense class to the City Guard. She was a little taller than Helena and her hair was buzzed close to her head. Her mask was dark blue and black - as if she'd been born to do this. Being the one of the few girls in the Guard had kind of shoved Mags, Helena and Laurel together. Helena didn't mind. Both women were amazing fighters and hilarious in their own ways. Neither one of them called her the Creator, either.

"Could have been better, but I'm in," Helena said.

Mags grinned, "I'll feel much better knowing you're up there to watch my back."

Nodd agreed, "You earned it."

Helena smiled, but it was tempered. Nodd was a great friend, but he was looking for more. That wasn't what Helena was interested in right now. She'd explained things to him, and he said he understood. Helena still saw the looks he cast her when he thought she wasn't looking, and the way he went out of his way to get closer to her. She really valued his friendship, but she didn't want any more than that.

He sighed, "Well, I'm going to turn in. Especially if we're going to head out tomorrow. It's amazing how much stuff has gathered in my tent. I should pack before the morning."

"See you at dawn," Mags said. The four of them were in the same fifteen-man squad, under Mags's command. There were three other squads of human soldiers, then two 100 piece companies of the metal soldiers. Drag was their company leader, with two of his best strategists as his right and left hands for the metal soldiers. Helena, with the Librarian's help, had created a map that let the strategists see the battle in real time, with all the pieces moving as their real life counterparts did. From the safety of the camp, they could rearrange and give new commands to everyone. It had taken a long time, but not nearly as long as the communication devices between Drag, the Queen, the squad leaders, and the strategists. Luckily, in a world of paper, the physics and engineering didn't have to be exact for it to work. It had taken some fiddling, but they finally had working devices.

Less successful were Helena's attempts to create some sort of projectile weapon more powerful than an arrow or crossbow, but easier to manage. She'd read about the boom-sticks that divers used to fight against sharks, but reading a few sentences hadn't really prepared her for recreating them. It was still in the trial and error phase, where sometimes nothing at all happened when she pulled the trigger, or the entire thing exploded.

The ladies headed off to their tents; Helena and Laurel shared one, while Mags had her own. They were located off the side, so they could have their own latrines (not one of Helena's favorite parts of camping out) separate from the men.

"So how did it really go?" Mags asked once Nodd had left. "I've never seen my brother so irritated, and that's saying something."

"Drag implied that my feelings would get in the way of me doing the job," Helena said under her breath. "He also thought having me at the front would be too risky."

"But no one knows you're alive. That's why you've been wearing the mask," Laurel pointed out.

Helena touched the mask on her face. It covered her eyes and left cheek, spreading down into a fanned edge. It had been cumbersome at first, but she was used to it now. "I told him that."

"What feelings? You don't have any love for the Princess, we all know that."

Mags and Helena shared a look.

"Not the Princess," Helena said quietly.

Laurel's eyes widened behind her mask. "Oh. Va- the juggler."

Helena nodded. "Yeah."

"But he tried to murder you. And came very close," Mags pointed out.

"I said that as well. Drag doesn't think that if I were to face him on the battlefield, that I would be able to kill him. And he might be right."

Mags stopped. "If he was heading right for you, knife to your throat, would you try to stop him?"

"Of course."

"And if he was heading towards me? Or Laurel?"

"Absolutely."

"And if he didn't stop after you wounded him?"

Helena thought about it, staring at her friends, "I would make him stop. Whatever it takes."

"Good enough for me," Laurel said. "I don't want to kill anyone, but I will if I have to. I know you'll watch my back."

Helena appreciated the support. "Thanks."

Mags smiled and sent them off to bed with a salute. Helena and Laurel returned it, retiring into their tent.

Laurel quickly fell into a deep sleep, her steady breathing making Helena's wakefulness even more apparent. It took her hours to fall asleep and when she did, her dreams were interrupted by scenes of bloody juggling balls and a familiar, Irish laugh.


	9. We're on first

"Everybody up! Guards to the front!"

Helena's eyes snapped open, but it took her a minute to get the image of spiked hair out of her head. Laurel was just slipping out of her cot, reaching for her armor.

"They're coming," she said.

The shouts continued down the alley of tents, but Helena and Laurel were up and moving. Before long, they'd donned their armor and picked up their weapons, just like they'd been trained to do. Together, they headed towards the southwestern corner of the camp. It was quiet, despite the fact that dozens of Guards were walking in the same direction.

It had been a week since Helena's fight with Drag, and since then there had been several small skirmishes with the Princess's army. They'd run in and attack, then retreat. So far, thanks to the metallic soldiers, there hadn't been any casualties.

At least, not on the Light's side.

Helena had already drawn blood. She'd already killed someone. More than one someone, actually.

She'd thrown up after her first kill. Right there, in the middle of the battlefield. Laurel had helped her up and they continued on, like they'd been trained to do. She had nightmares now, though.

This wasn't like those other times, though. The Princess's army was marching on them, a huge, black force rolling toward them like a wave.

Helena and Laurel stepped into place beside Nodd. He looked pale beneath his mask, but smiled when he saw them. "Some wake up, huh?"

Helena nodded, looking through their small squadron over the faces she had grown to know. There was no time for formalities as Mags came through the ranks. The short woman touched their arms as she passed, but didn't say anything until she got to the front.

"This is different," Mags said. Other commanders were shouting, but Mags barely raised her voice. "This is a real battle. They're coming and we're going to lose some people today."

Helena gripped her sword tighter, staring at Mags as if the Shadow army wasn't about to roll over them.

"But we have something they don't," Mags said, her voice carrying. "We have each other.

"The Princess is fighting for land. And power. We aren't. We're fighting for something smaller. Something real. Something more important than land or titles or power. We're fighting for each other. When the battle's raging, forget all thoughts of royalty and land. Look around. You're fighting for the person next to you and behind you. When you're down in the mud, when you think you can't go on, it'll be the person next to you who'll help you up and keep you going. They'll fight for you. I'll fight for you.

"Do the same for me."

The adrenaline coursing through her skin, Helena nodded, able to believe in that.

Mags turned and faced the black wave. "Let's have ourselves a fight, then."

"I'm not ready for this," Laurel whispered as they began marching forward. The metallic soldiers led the charge and it was the Guard's job to pick off the ones who made it through. From the looks of the force, they'd have their work cut out for them.

Helena touched her arm, feeling Laurel shaking even through her gloves. "Don't worry. We'll just stay together. You'll watch my back, I'll watch yours." When the woman continued to stare ahead with side eyes, Helena shook her. "Hey. We've trained for this. We'll be okay."

Laurel nodded. "Okay. Yeah."

Despite the movies Helena had seen, there wasn't one huge moment with the battle started. It just came closer and closer until she was suddenly face to face with the enemy.

They had formations. They had plans and rules and ideas. Most of it went out the window. Helena wasn't focusing on the pincer movement Mags made them memorize, she was focused on not dying.

Still, her training did her well. Helena moved quickly through the crowd, using what Mags and Drag had taught her to dispatch one enemy after another. She stopped looking at faces and just focused on chests and arms. It was easier if she didn't look into their eyes. She wished she had more time to work on the boom-stick, but the prototype was still too dangerous to use in close quarters like this. It would hit a friend as often as an enemy.

Helena shoved someone off her blade, immediately moving on to the next opponent. Odd. This one wasn't wearing the black armor. Instead, he was wearing a dark shirt with a white robe and -

To her credit, she didn't freeze or panic. She still struck out with her sword. It was blocked by him, but she tried. She struck again and again, but couldn't get past his defense. She hadn't realized he'd been taught.

He never spoke, never said her name like he had before. Perhaps the Princess still thought she was dead. That would be ideal. She stowed it away, glad that she wouldn't have to deal with his manipulation right now.

She shook her head clear of those thoughts, grateful that her helmet covered most of her face. Doggedly continuing, she fought to get past his defense and at least disarm him. If he was unarmed, she had a chance to do this without killing him.

His sword broke through and she felt the pain as the blade sliced past her side. It was shallow, but it hurt. She had her doubts about the man on the rooftop, but she wouldn't trust him. Not when he was doing his best to skewer her.

She ducked her head and cut down sharply, knocking his sword aside and slicing into his shoulder. The familiar Irish voice swore as the wound turned red. Ignoring the ache in her chest as she saw him favor his shoulder, Helena landed another blow on his arm. This one was deeper and he cried out in pain.

Biting her cheek, Helena refused to respond. She wouldn't give in to him. He stepped close, twisting his blade beneath hers and wrenching it out of her grip. Before she could get it, he had his blade at her throat.

Only then did Helena look at him. There was nothing familiar on his face. No sense of recognition, or guilt, or anything but a vague tightness on his face from the pain. He looked blank. Helena closed her eyes and felt the sword push against her skin-

-and then she heard a gurgle.

Helena opened her eyes and saw that red was blossoming over the front of his robe. The stain got darker and bigger, and eventually he dropped the sword and fell to his knees. His face was pale, except for the ruby stream that poured out from his mouth. Drag was behind him, his sword pulled free from the juggler, but still red.

He hit the ground face-first and didn't move again. Helena stared at him for a moment, wondering why it felt like she had been the one stabbed, instead of him.

"Can you go on?" Drag asked her. He didn't seem angry, just concerned. She was grateful they decided not to use her name on the battlefield. Especially now that she knew the Princess had no idea.

She nodded, then bent and picked up the juggler's discarded sword. "Yes," she added, in case he hadn't seen her.

"Good."

She jumped back into the fray with Drag at her side, moving even faster than she had before. He didn't comment, didn't speak other than to order others around them to keep moving forward. Every step they took forward was a step away from what had happened, so Helena kept moving forward. She gained a few more cuts, but that was due to the fact that her eyes wouldn't stop watering.

In the end, they had driven the Princess's army back far enough that they moved the camp forward. They had gained about seven miles of bloody ground and they had earned every saturated inch of it. The camp was guarded and Helena was near the center. She took the time to strip off her armor and clean off the smears of the day. Then she sat and cleaned her new sword, removing any trace of its successes.

She drew for an hour or two, replacing the three metal soldiers they had lost, wandering about the camp in her civilian clothes to make sure they were placed in the right areas. Mags saw her and ordered her bed. She had no choice but to obey. She returned to her tent, drawing up another prototype of the boom-stick. She wouldn't be able to test it until tomorrow morning. The living soldiers deserved their rest. They wouldn't take kindly to Helena creating explosions when they were supposed to be sleeping. There was nothing else for her to do, so she washed her face and got into her bed.

It wasn't until she got into bed, until she had finally stopped moving, that Helena thought about the juggler. She'd been able to avoid it up until now, keeping her mind blank and focused on the next task, but there were no tasks now. She was alone and still.

For the first time in more than three years, Helena cried herself to sleep over a juggler.

* * *

"Well," the Princess said. "That's interesting."

Valentine ignored her, sitting in his armchair and staring at the wall. It was his normal state now. Ever since his outburst, the Princess had been treating him with kid gloves, taking care not to speak to him often. Even though she watched him when he practiced with the living soldiers, she almost never spoke to him.

"It appears that you've gotten on the wrong side of the City's Guards. I wondered what you did that made you deserve to die, according to them."

He didn't move or turn.

"Oh, right. You murdered their Creator. How silly of me to forget."

Valentine's hands clenched on the arms of the chair.

"Look, isn't it lovely?"

She waved her hand over the window, turning it black before something began to show in the darkness. Valentine witnessed a battle through his hazy eyes, following along with a fellow that looked just like him. The copy of Valentine cut down soldier after soldier, but not as quickly as he could have been. Every step was taken with an effort, every opponent dispatched with a fight.

He approached another warrior, this one with a helmet that covered his face. Like the others, this one gave as good as he got, drawing blood from the fake Valentine more than once, even after being wounded himself. He wondered if the Princess sacrificed a real soldier for this show.

"The copies of you bleed better than the dead soldiers wearing the Mask," she murmured.

Valentine ignored her and saw the fake him disarm the soldier and press his blade to his throat. It was unfortunate, he was a good-

Valentine didn't move, or blink, or even breathe for a moment as the soldier's eyes flickered up into the fake Valentine's face. He knew that brown. Only one person he knew had those eyes. Come to mention it, he recognized that mouth, not blocked by the helmet. The way those lips pressed together tightly. He knew those fingers, even if they were wrapped around a sword instead of a pencil.

He knew this soldier.

He barely noticed the way the fake Valentine was dispatched, just in time to save the soldier. Valentine was more concerned with the way the other soldier stared at the body. The way the soldier picked up the sword and continued forward with the blue-haired man. Valentine saw the way the soldier wiped their eyes clear when the blue-haired man was distracted.

The Princess was watching him, looking for a reaction. He didn't dare give anything away. People were only safe if the Princess didn't know they were there.

"That gives you one less tool to use," he finally said.

"Well, it already completed its purpose. You murdered Helena," she laughed.

Valentine looked at her and didn't speak. Her laughter faded and she stood.

"I thought you ought to know that your so-called friends, or allies, they murdered you and left you lying in your own blood. And," she added, collecting the black from the window and letting the MirrorMask appear in her hand, "nobody cared."

Valentine turned his gaze back to the wall, so used to the numbness that he knew how it looked to outsiders. He didn't let on that his insides were twisting and shouting. Eventually the Princess left, leaving him alone with his guard.

Even after she left, he didn't dare give a hint as to what was happening. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, as he'd done a thousand times in the past few weeks. He didn't shout it, he didn't even think it loudly. It was just the tiniest whisper, the flimsiest thought that would blow away if anyone looked at it too closely. Just a momentary flicker.

Helena.

Valentine opened his eyes and resumed his normal position. Inside though, he was no longer numb. No longer a victim. No longer waiting for the inevitable end.

He was a Valentine.

* * *

_Helena looked up, seeing Valentine sitting on the edge of the pool. He looked like she had remembered him. He leaned forward, his hands hanging between his knees._

_She kicked a rock, partially out of weakness. She wasn't sure what she should say, so announcing her presence like this was easier._

_His head snapped up and his gaze locked on her. For a moment, he just stared. Helena drank in his image, unsure if this was something she would regret dreaming in the morning. If he was dead, she wanted it to be over, not to be reminded of him every time she closed her eyes._

_"Hullo," he said._

_That voice was like a punch to the gut. Helena flinched away._

_He stood up slowly, but he didn't walk any closer._

_Helena smiled tightly, "I watched you die today." She almost said it with a calm voice. Only a slight quaver betrayed the truth._

_He still hadn't looked away. "No. You watched a copy of me die today."_

_"So you're still alive?"_

_"In a manner of speaking. Now, my turn. You died weeks ago."_

_"No. You stabbed me in the back. I nearly died."_

_This time he flinched. "Not me."_

_"Right. A copy." She had missed the juggler, but she'd been fooled twice already by this man. She wasn't so willing to believe this one. "Convenient."_

_He smirked and put his hands in his pockets, striding around the pool. "You weren't always this quick, Helena-na."_

_That was a second punch to the gut. That nickname. In that voice._

_"You know the saying; fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice..."_

_"Shame on me a second time?" he finished._

_She smiled against her better judgment. "No. Shame on me."_

_"Ah. Stupid saying, really," Valentine said. "You're all right, though? Really alive?"_

_The twist in conversation made her head spin. "Yes. I'm alive. Are you going to spread that along to your Princess?"_

_He smile turned darker, but it wasn't aimed at her. "No. I think I'll leave that to you."_

_She smirked back at him, unable to keep herself at an arm's distance._

_"I caught your show in the City of Light. You really spun the Princess around." He sat back down on the pool._

_"She seemed calm enough when she left."_

_He laughed, "Trust me, she was planning your murder about two minutes later. You got to her."_

_"And yet, you're still walking around...not a shadow, not dead." Helena crossed her arms. "Why's that?"_

_"The Princess is lonely. She'd rather play with her food before, you know...brutally murdering it." He was still smiling, but it was wrong. He was different in other ways. He spoke and moved more confidently, with more thought in his actions._

_Helena stared at him. "Why are you doing this?"_

" _Don't have much control over my dreaming."_

" _Helping the Princess."_

" _Because I'm an awful, awful man. You knew that."_

" _But you're not. At least, you didn't use to be."_

_He sat down on the pool edge again, "I betrayed you for a handful of jewels."_

" _And then you came back," she reminded him. "You rescued me."_

_He glanced down at his feet. "I put you there. It's not a rescue if it was my fault to begin with."_

_She took a step towards him before she caught herself. But it was hard...seeing him here alive and hurting. Helena wasn't good with ignoring people in pain. Especially when it was one of her best- had been one of her best...argh._

_Valentine stood again and walked up to her. Helena stiffened, but didn't step back or turn away. He noticed and smiled. "Don't worry. It's just a dream. Nothing can hurt you in a dream."_

_Helena arched a brow, "You won't hurt me again, Valentine. I won't let you."_

_He didn't hesitate, but cupped her cheek and tilted her head up. "Good," he said quietly. "I'm glad you're alive."_

_She didn't lean in to his touch, despite wanting to. Still, she figured he could have a little of the truth. "And I'm glad you're not dead."_

_"Keep fighting, Helena-na. She's not as controlled as she seems. You've got her on the run." He let go of her face and walked away._

_"Where are you going?" she called after him._

_"Unfortunately," he said back, turning and walking backwards, "I'm waking up."_

_Helena felt the world around her shift and begin to fade. Apparently she was waking up as well. She might be wrong, but she was willing to hazard a guess that this was the real Valentine. Her friend, no matter what he had done. "Don't die before we meet again, okay?"_

_He grinned, "Will we meet again, Creator?"_

_Rolling her eyes and unable to keep a smile away from her face, Helena turned away from him. "In your dreams, Valentine."_

When Helena woke up, that smile was still there.


	10. Unrehearsed

The flaming chunks of the training dummy landed around them. Mags flinched and stepped aside.

"Maybe a bit too strong?" Drag mumbled.

Helena put down her boom-stick. "Yeah, I think you're right." She stared at the machine, "I think I'm almost there, though."

"Just a little more work," Helena commented. "I'm just going to go and work on them for a bit."

As she started off, Drag stopped her. "I'll walk with you."

They walked in silence for a while back to her tent.

"How are you?" Drag asked her.

"I'm fine."

He stopped. "Helena. It's been two days and you haven't spoken about it."

"About what?" she tried.

For how short he was, he was far more intimidating than she'd anticipated.

"Fine. No, I haven't spoken about it and I don't want to, okay?"

"Helena."

She stopped, unable to lie, but unable to tell her suspicions either. "He was best friend."

"I'm sorry that we weren't able to help him," Drag said quietly, stopping as well.

Helena hesitated, "Look...I don't think I thanked you for saving me."

"It's what soldiers do," Drag muttered.

"Well, thanks. Soldier." Helena smiled. "Goodnight."

"Night."

Helena went back to her tent and settled into her cot.

"It's been quiet," Laurel noticed.

"So I've been quiet, what's the big deal with that?" Helena muttered.

Laurel laughed, "Sensitive. I meant everything. The Princess. She's been quiet."

"Licking her wounds."

"Or planning her next move."

Helena sighed, "True. But let's not dwell on that. Let's just get some sleep."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just tired."

She wasn't tired. Not really. But she was eager to sleep. She had been the past couple nights. She wasn't even entirely sure it really was Valentine that she'd seen in her sleep, which was the only reason she hadn't come clean about him.

Well, perhaps not the only reason.

In her dream, they'd been like they had been before the mess, before the war, before...everything. They'd just been friends.

Granted, friends who were both incredibly suspicious of the other, but friends, nonetheless.

After making three more prototypes of the boom-stick, Helena called it a night and changed into her pajamas - just clean breeches and a top in case something happened in the middle of the night.

_The second dream began and she was by the pool alone. She stared into the water, wondering if she'd be spending the entire time alone. She found herself hoping that she wouldn't._

_Weirdly, the sun around the Pool was hot. Helena was soon sweating and wishing for some shade. Without an option, she leaned over and splashed water on her face, cooling down almost instantly._

_She used the hem of her shirt to dry off a little, hearing a scuff from behind her._

_Valentine was standing a few feet away from her, watching._

" _You're back," she noticed, letting her shirt drop back down. Valentine followed the movement and the shook his head slightly._

" _As are you."_

_The tension was back, but not quite as bad as it had been the last time. Helena decided to trust this Valentine, at least a bit._

" _So how does this place work, anyway?" she asked, taking a moment to step around the Pool a little, putting some distance between them._

" _Where do you go when you dream?" Valentine asked._

_She shrugged, "The circus. My house. My trailer." Here. Your Tower. She kept watching him as they walked around one another._

" _You aren't really in those places, though. Just an image." He flapped his arm as he spoke and his sleeves swung about._

" _But we've been here before. When we were awake."_

" _Just like you've been at your trailer and in your circus. It's just a dream," Valentine explained._

" _Then how are you here? How are we both here, but not really dreaming?" she asked._

" _How do you know you're not? I might just be a figment of that very overactive imagination." His steps were slowing and he was turning to watch her._

_Helena slowed as well, doing little more than just shuffling her feet. "Because if I dreamed you up, you would be different."_

" _What would I be?" he asked quietly._

_She glanced up at the dark eyes she couldn't quite see, the mask that was so impassive and yet so familiar to her as well. "You'd be like I remembered. This you...this is a new you."_

" _Hate to disappoint," Valentine said, still staring._

" _You don't," she said quickly, making him smirk just a little. Dammit. "I mean, you've just changed a bit. You're still mostly the same. Still a juggler. Still got your Tower."_

" _Of course I've got my Tower, I'll have you know, I'm a-"_

" _Very important man," Helena recited along with a smile. "Yeah, I know."_

_Valentine's head cocked towards her, his own mouth drawn up in a smile._

_Caught up in the moment, in the sense of the familiar, which she had believed to be completely lost, Helena reacted rather than thought, trusting in this being a dream. Trusting in her friend._

_Helena moved forward and wrapped her arms around Valentine's waist, hugging him tightly._

_He inhaled, obviously not expecting that. It took him a moment, but Helena felt his arms slide around her back._

_This was a dream, Helena knew that. It even felt dreamlike. There was almost a barrier between her and Valentine, a fuzziness that kept this from becoming too clear. But still. She could hear his heartbeat in his chest, feel his breathing, his hands on her back._

_She'd grown. He'd been much taller than her before, but now her head fit snugly beneath his chin. It felt...nice._

_Something touched her hair and she jumped, startled._

" _Your hair is longer," he noticed._

_She turned, her cheek against his chest to see him twisting the ends of her hair in his fingers. Looking up at him, she commented, "Yeah, well, three years will do that to you."_

_Valentine glanced down at her and Helena froze. They were awfully close. Closer, in fact, than Helena had wanted to be the first night. But this was Valentine._

_Still, she slipped out of his hold, ignoring how he seemed reluctant._

" _So, how are you?" she asked, trying to change the subject. He was staring at her and it made her feel exposed. He was working with the enemy. She had to remember that._

_Because she was doing so well with that right now._

" _Oh, you know. Living the dream," Valentine said. "Literally, I suppose."_

_Helena sat on the edge of the Pool, looking up at him. "I mean it, Valentine."_

_His mouth dropped open for a second, then he shook his head. "Of course you mean it."_

" _Are you okay there?"_

_Valentine strode around, rubbing his wrist with one hand. "Oh, you know me. I keep my head down and make the rounds, kiss hands, shake babies - wait. No, that's not right."_

_Helena smiled, but couldn't shake the feeling he was lying. "Valentine…"_

" _That last skirmish was rather squeamishly skirmishy, wasn't it? You came out alright?"_

_She knew he was changing the subject, but she played along. "Yes. We only lost a few of the metal soldiers."_

" _Ingenious creations. I'm assuming they were yours?"_

_Helena shrugged, "Maybe."_

" _Brilliant. She ranted and raved when she first saw those. Well done," he commented._

_Helena felt a strange feeling rising up in her throat. "And your forces?"_

" _Not mine. Hers. I'm just along for the ride, as they say," he said, waving his hand like it was no big deal._

" _Can you leave?" she asked quietly._

_Valentine hesitated in place, then continued moving, even faster than before. "No. You know, just finally settled in. Besides, she kind of has my old place under lock and key."_

_Again with the "she."_

_Looking at the ground, Helena voiced her next comment. "You seem to spend a lot of time with her."_

" _Part and parcel of the whole being-one-of-the-few-people-she-hasn't-killed-yet position I've got going," Valentine murmured, his smile there but clearly forced._

" _Valentine-"_

" _You know," he said, putting a finger to his chin, "I've just recalled, you said you could juggle."_

_Helena got to her feet, anxious to know what was happening to him, "Valentine, please-"_

" _I mean, I know I can juggle, but it doesn't hurt to have some practice, so what do you say?" Three juggling balls appeared in his hands and he started doing a circuit._

" _Can we please talk, instead?"_

" _Nothing doing with talking, juggling solves all life's problems."_

" _Valentine."_

" _Helena-na."_

" _I want to help," Helena insisted._

" _Then juggle."_

_She crossed her arms and glared at him, "I just need to know you're okay!"_

_Valentine smirked and juggled, executing a perfect spin with his coat snapping out. Helena suppressed a twinge of jealousy at the ease with which he did that and rolled her eyes. "Not everything can be solved with juggling."_

" _Then you're not doing it right."_

_She couldn't help a laugh. "Fine, let's-"_

_He winced, grabbing at his arm. "Some other time, then."_

" _Waking up?"_

" _Of course," he muttered. "See you later, Creator." He then chuckled. "Look at that, I made a rhy-"_

_Then he was gone._

* * *

Valentine woke up with a smile.

He'd made Helena smile.

He'd made Helena laugh.

Even being on opposite sides of a war - not that opposite was exactly the right word, he was on her side, just not physically over there on her side of the battlefield, but - he had managed to make her happier.

Having just woken up from one of the greatest moments in the past three years of his life, Valentine wasn't as observant as he usually was.

"You're happy this morning," a strikingly familiar and yet horrifically emotionless voice said.

He sat up and glanced to where the Princess stood in his doorway. He'd been sleeping in his old room. He wasn't quite sure, nor did he really care where the Princess slept, so long as she left him alone.

"I dreamed about palimpuffs. They were juggling tiny sphinxes. It was amusing," he deadpanned, straightening his hair to feel slightly less exposed.

The Princess's black eyes stared at him. "You think you're clever."

"Disagree. I know I am."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Where do you go when you think I can't follow, Val?"

He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up, towering over her like he did Helena. "Does it matter? Anywhere is better than here."

"Would you like to test that?" she called as he walked past her into the bathroom.

"It's too early for the empty threats, Princess," he snapped. "Let me at least get some breakfast in."

"Grumpy," she whined.

"Bitchy," he muttered beneath his breath.

"What was that?"

"I'm itchy, do you want to know all about my morning routine?" Valentine said.

The Princess probably had a response, but Valentine missed it as he closed the bathroom door.

He could hear her voice through the wood, but he tuned it out. He closed his eyes and pressed his head against the mirror.

Reality was dragging him down.

So, he thought about something else. A small, warm pair of arms around his waist, holding him tightly. And he was able to hold back, really - well, mostly really, in his dreams which is about how close he was going to get.

Still, much better than anything else he had right now.

Clinging to that memory, Valentine was able to make it through that minute. And the next. And the next.

By the time he knew it, it was night again and he'd made it through the day.

He got back into bed and closed his eyes with a smile.

* * *

Helena had been running around all day – creating new types of boom-sticks, more metal soldiers, replacing armor. She was exhausted, and yet couldn't fall asleep. She'd never had this much fun sleeping. Almost every night she found herself by the Pool of Dreams, joining or quickly joined by her friend. They talked, about unimportant things as Valentine persisted in changing the subject every time he could, but they talked. They discussed juggling and tumbling and everything except the battle they were in. They once spent an entire night seeing who could stand on their heads the longest. Most nights it was wonderful.

A week later, Helena didn't find it so wonderful.

_She arrived first and immediately sat down on the ground next to the Pool. The ache in her chest hadn't vanished with her conscious mind and here, in this place of peace and honesty, it was hard to hide it. The shorter figure half buried beneath the debris, the "G" on his chest almost unrecognizable from the muck and blood…_

_She buried her face in her knees and tried to control her breathing._

" _Helena?"_

_She didn't move, ignoring him. She was angry and sad, and it wouldn't end well. A warm hand landed on her shoulder and she had to fight not to flinch away._

" _What happened?" he asked quietly._

_Helena sniffed, wiping her hands across her face. So much for control. "There was another small skirmish."_

" _I heard."_

" _It was a diversion. Some of the Shadow forces snuck around past our front line. They were going for the Queen, because most of our forces were in the battle, but a friend of mine was there and he held them off as best he could, but…" She shook her head, feeling the pressure in her throat. "My squad was the closest so we were called back, but by the time we got there…we weren't in time."_

_She remembered the feeling upon seeing Gallant's body in the churned up ground, a Shadow soldier standing over him. She didn't say what happened then. How it was her first kill where she didn't feel guilty. How she would have killed ten more if it would bring back Gallant._

_Valentine squeezed her shoulder and this time Helena did move away. He didn't react as she stood up and turned to face him. "What are you doing there, Valentine?"_

" _Sitting."_

" _With the Princess."_

" _Sleeping, I suppose," he responded. What little expression she could make out from behind his mask shut down._

" _What does she want with you?" she asked, trying to keep her temper._

_Valentine shrugged. "Entertainment, mostly."_

" _But you're with her. All the time. You could help us."_

" _No, I can't," he shook his head._

" _Yes, you can!"_

" _Tried helping once."_

" _Then why can't you do it again?"_

" _It ended badly."_

" _How?"_

_He shrugged and Helena huffed, "Why can't you answer anything honestly? You could find out what she's doing and relay it to me and then we'd have a fighting chance!"_

" _Until she figures it out, you mean." His voice was harder. "And then, she'll twist it all about until it hurts you even more."_

_Despair and frustration drove Helena's words. "We need your help, Valentine! Maybe Gallant would still be alive if you weren't such a-" she cut herself off._

_Valentine smirked without humor. Apparently she didn't cut herself off in time. "Go on. Say it."_

_Helena shook her head, but he stood up, his fists clenched. "You were going to call me a coward, weren't you?"_

" _I didn't mean-"_

" _You did," he interrupted, with a hard laugh. "Not that you're wrong, mind you. But then again, I've been there for three years, so I had to make some behavior changes if I didn't want my mind rewritten. Unless you'd prefer that?"_

" _Of course not!" Helena snapped. Her tears were swiftly turning into anger. "Don't be stupid!"_

" _Because I'm sure I could arrange that with her. Already under house arrest, may as well go for broke!" He waved his arm about, striding towards her. "Wouldn't take much, the last bloke just sneezed in her presence before he was emptied out. And I know I've riled her up far more."_

" _Stop being ridiculous!" Helena shouted. "I don't want that!"_

_He was in her face, shouting at her, and she was shouting right back. It was only sensible that the dream would react. A sword appeared in Helena's hand and she looked down at it, startled._

_When she looked back up, Valentine's eyes were locked on the blade. "Feeling a little angry?" he asked quietly, his tone calming._

" _Pissed is the word I would use," Helena shot back._

_He grinned, a good portion of the anger disappearing, but the tension still palpable. "Good. Then let's make a deal."_

" _What kind of deal?"_

_A sword appeared in his hand and Helena backed up, instinctively tensing. He swung it confidently. "We fight. If you win, I'll answer a question honestly. One question, one answer."_

" _And if you win?" she asked, already feeling the adrenaline start to rewire from anger to anticipation._

_He was already shrugging out of his robe. "You'll find out if I win."_

_Mags and Drag's voices were both screaming in her head to back off, to stay away…_

_But they weren't here, were they?_

_She nodded, "All right."_

_She rolled her shoulders as they circled one another in the dust. She'd fought two fake Valentines, but never the real thing._

_The real Valentine should prove a new challenge._

_They started out slowly, not trying to win or lose, but just feel one another out. Valentine was more unpredictable. He'd clearly never trained with someone the way Helena had with Mags. His movements seemed to be more a combination of many different styles, which make him unpredictable. He was stronger than Helena as well. However, she was faster and a bit smoother than him, the trained movements flowing into one another easily._

_They broke away from one another. Helena could feel the sweat dripping down the back of her shirt, but she saw Valentine's chest heaving, too._

_Getting in close, Helena ducked under Valentine's swing and hit low with the flat of her blade. He grunted and danced away from her, but Helena followed. All he needed was just enough room to strike out at her, just a half step away and he would win. Luckily, she was too quick to allow that. Helena hit once – twice – thrice more and Valentine stumbled back. Helena hooked her foot around his ankle as he stepped back, tossing him to the ground._

_Valentine landed with a thud, dropping his sword. Helena stood over him and held her sword casually over his chest. Not near enough to really threaten him, but near enough that he knew who had won._

" _Well done," he remarked from the ground, his sword vanishing along with Helena's._

_She extended her hand down and he grasped it, allowing her to help him up. She pulled him and he hopped up surprisingly easily, giving her too much momentum and startling her back. Tripping herself, Helena clutched Valentine's hand in both of hers and he caught her round the waist._

_He held her off the ground for a long moment, his long arm firmly wrapped around her. Helena's hands were caught against his chest, still holding onto his other hand._

" _Much as I don't want to tarnish your victory," Valentine said quietly. "That wasn't the most graceful celebration."_

_She grinned and shrugged, trying to ignore the way his chest vibrated beneath her fingers. "I didn't want you to feel too bad about losing."_

" _Ah, well," he said, smirking. "I can stand losing to you."_

_He whirled her up and around to her feet, leaving her head spinning slightly. "So, what shall your question be?"_

_Helena hesitated._

" _The Princess' strategy? Battle plan? Don't know much there, have to tell you. Her soldiers? Her breakfast?" Valentine rattled off, pacing._

_Once again, the siblings' voices rattled through her head, begging her to get information from the one source they had. And once again, Helena ignored that._

" _Are you okay?" she asked quietly._

_Valentine froze for a half second, then grinned, "Of cou-"_

_Helena interrupted, "You said honestly."_

_He swallowed audibly, the smile, the façade, dropping from his face for a half second. "No."_

_She didn't know what to say._

" _But I'm managing." And the mask was back. He grinned and winked, "You certainly wasted your question, Creator."_

_Helena took one of Valentine's hands in hers, glancing up at him, "No, I didn't."_

_Valentine stared at her, something raw behind his mask. "Helena…"_

_Helena woke up._


	11. And we still don't know

Valentine was only alone for a few moments after Helena vanished, his hand startlingly cold after being held in her tiny, furnace-like palm. He swallowed back whatever nonsense he'd been about to spill and thanked his characteristically unlucky stars that she'd gone before he started being ridiculous. Saying things like thank you's and missed you's and lov-

No. He was lucky.

Even more so, when he woke up, he'd had enough time to school his expression. When he came to in his Tower, it was without a smile or trace of the happiness he'd really felt. Slowly, Valentine opened his eyes to find that he was, amazingly, alone.

He got up and dressed still in solitude. With a sense of foreboding and uneasiness, he wandered his Tower, his rotting guard following his movements, but making no attempt to stop him.

"Valentine," a voice called from downstairs.

Knowing better than to delay whoever it was, Valentine went to his kitchen, finding a living guard standing by the door.

"The Queen would like to see you."

"Not mutual," the juggler murmured, but followed the guard anyway. His usual silent guard trailed after both of them.

They moved past the food storage and crates of fruit and barrels of flour for the living army, heading towards the tent in the center of it all.

The Princess's tent was head and shoulders above all the others, pitch black and huge. He didn't know how she did it, but the inside was larger than the outside. As they approached, Valentine noticed several of the living soldiers glancing at him with frowns. The uneasiness began to grow.

His messenger left him outside the Princess's tent and fled quickly. Valentine waited outside the canvas for a moment, garnering the strength to walk inside.

A strange noise was emanating from within. Heavy breathing, rhythmic movements… It had been a long time and Valentine wasn't expecting to be hearing that sort of activity, which left him a little slower on the uptake than he should have been. He pulled the edge of the canvas aside and glanced inside.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He first saw a large expanse of back and spiked hair that looked strangely familiar. Except his back didn't have crescent shaped cuts in the shoulders, or long red marks across it, or a pair of arms clinging around his shoulders, nor long legs wrapped around the waist and –

"Harder," ordered a familiar voice, from just behind the man. The back bent and shifted slightly, revealing the other person.

Valentine met the Princess's eyes over his copy's shoulder and she grinned at him. Spinning away from the canvas, Valentine retreated back to his Tower, his bedroom, shutting his guard out and ignoring the bile rising up in his throat. It wasn't him, it was only a copy. It wasn't him. Not really.

And yet.

Valentine barely made it to the bathroom before losing his lack of breakfast. As he panted and tried to keep down what was left of his stomach, he found that he was glad that he'd been honest.

He wasn't okay.

* * *

"Helena."

BOOM.

"Helena!"

BOOM.

"HELENA!"

"What?!" Helena snapped, turning on Mags.

The shorter woman raised her brow at her tone, but just eyed the mess of training dummies and discarded boom-sticks on the ground. "You've been at this for hours. Give it a rest."

"No," Helena said, pulling out another piece of paper and dropping it to create her seventh? Twelfth boom-stick? "I've almost got it."

"What's going on? The past few days, you've been on edge."

"It's too quiet. The Princess should have done something by now." Helena neglected to mention she hadn't seen Valentine in her dreams for three nights. That was starting to wear on her, too. What if he'd been caught? What if the Princess had done something to him? She wouldn't even know until the Princess was taken down.

So that's what she would do.

Helena raised the boom-stick, ignoring Mags' attempt to speak and fired.

BOOM.

She blinked and stared at the target – a perfect circle in the middle of its chest. No extra flames. No blowback. No sparking.

"Did you get it?" Mags whispered.

Helena moved to the next target and tried again.

BOOM.

Perfect.

Helena smiled as Mags cheered, "You did it! Finally!"

"I'll get started on them right now. I should have a good handful of them up and ready by tomorrow," Helena said, grabbing her book.

"Nope," Mags said, snagging Helena's wrist and yanking the book out of it. "Eat, then work."

"Mags-"

"If you die of malnutrition, Drag will somehow make it into my fault and I'm not having that. Eat."

Helena rolled her eyes and followed the tiny woman reluctantly.

Fifteen completed boom-sticks and three more almost finished drawings later, Helena collapsed into bed and tried not to hope.

_When she arrived at the Pool, she was alone. Trying to keep her spirits up, Helena left the juggling balls alone and decided to practice some of her tumbling. It had fallen by the wayside as she and Valentine focused on their more favorite pastime, but he wasn't here…yet._

_She stretched carefully, knowing all too well what would happen to muscles that weren't properly warmed up. Once she felt confident, she started with the basics. Headstands, handstands, cartwheels. Then she moved onto the more difficult ones, the flips that required the Pool's edge and a running start to be completed. Two in the air, then three and she felt better about her tumbling._

_Content and a little tired, Helena stretched out again, deep muscle movements that made it burn pleasantly. Wrapping up, she put her arms high above her head and bent back, catching a glimpse of white as she did so._

_Helena spun, "Valentine!"_

_For a moment, he just stared at her, that rawness she'd convinced herself she imagined clear on his face as he looked over her. It was as if he was dying of thirst and she was the fountain. Helena swallowed, having never been looked at like that before, and Valentine's eyes latched onto the movement of her throat and then continued traveling down. She could feel the flush starting on her cheeks and his hands clenched._

_Then he broke it, smiling tightly, "Hello."_

" _Where have you been?" she asked, taking a step nearer and telling herself that her knees were not shaking at all, thank you very much._

" _Around," he said vaguely, flapping his arm in the air._

" _Not sleeping?"_

_He smiled again, a little easier this time, "Not so much, no. Why, did you miss me?"_

_For half a second, Helena debated on lying. "Yes."_

_His mouth parted, having not expected the answer, and then he shrugged. "I'm here now."_

_Once again, Helena ignored her inhibitions and crossed the distance to her friend. He'd made no move towards her, but he didn't seem disappointed when she wrapped her arms around his waist. Quicker than last time, Valentine hugged her back, holding her close._

" _I was worried about you," Helena said into his shirt._

" _Don't do that. Valentines can take care of themselves," he answered, his thumb rubbing circles along her spine._

_She smiled, "I know. Doesn't mean I won't worry about you, though."_

" _That's your mistake, then," he murmured._

_Helena chuckled, then squeezed him tightly. "I'm glad you're okay." She tried to pull away, but his arms didn't loosen around her. Helena looked up and saw that look behind his eyes again._

_His hands had stopped on her back and he stared at her like a man lost._

_Unsure and concerned, Helena smiled faintly, "Hey, you're okay. We're okay here."_

_He didn't smile back. "It's not where I am that makes me okay, Helena-na."_

_She wasn't sure she was still breathing at this point._

_Valentine continued, "It's who I'm with and I…I think…"_

_Helena had to fight to keep her eyes on Valentine's eyes and not to wander downward…_

" _I think…"_

_His hands tightened slightly around her and then he grinned and stepped back, "I think we should have a rematch."_

_Helena reeled. "What?"_

_Two swords appeared in Valentine's hands and he handed one to her, a faint light in his eyes. "You win, you get another honest answer to a question, which I'm sure you need as you've wasted the last one."_

" _Valentine-"_

" _And when I win-"_

"' _When'?" she echoed in irritation, forgetting what it had been that she wanted to say._

" _-I'm going to take something that I've wanted for longer than morally appropriate," he smirked._

_Helena nearly dropped her sword._

" _What do you say, Creator?" he asked, pulling off his robe and glancing over his shoulder at her._

_She had an idea of what he meant by his winnings. Was she really willing to bet that against him? Could she live if she lost?_

_Did she even want to win at this point?_

_Helena raised her sword, "Come and get it, then."_

_Valentine grinned._

_There was no testing of one another this time. When Valentine came at her, it was like a wave bearing her down. Helena held her own, but Valentine was fighting as if for his life. He moved faster than she'd expected and she was hard pressed to keep up with him. However, Mags trained her well and Helena had eventually evened the field, giving as good as she was taking._

_Then Valentine twisted in a way she didn't think was physically possible, getting away from her blade and behind her in one amazing movement. Helena tried to turn, but-_

_Helena froze, her heart pounding in her ears. She hadn't dropped her sword, but she felt metal pressing against her throat. "You win," she panted, letting her blade drop. He held her tightly, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her from moving away. She could feel his heart pounding on her back, his breath coming short enough that she felt it on the top of her head. Despite the cessation of movement, her heart only moved faster._

_He let go of her slowly, stepping back. "I didn't expect you to do so well."_

_"I've been learning."_

_He chuckled. "Same here." The sword in his hand vanished. "Do you know how I did that?"_

_"Yeah." Her sword vanished as well. "I won't let it happen again."_

_"Good."_

_Helena walked over to the Pool, washing off her face in the water. Valentine joined her, handing her his robe as a towel. She grinned and took it, wiping the droplets off. When she lowered it, Valentine was very close to her._

_"Your winnings?" she asked him, her heart back in her throat._

_"Something like that. If you don't mind."_

_Helena shrugged, the nerves that she had managed to calm rising again as he stared at her. "You won, fair and square. Besides, it's a dream."_

_"Right," Valentine said. He took his robe out of her hands and wrapped his hand around her hip._

_"It isn't real." She took a step closer, resting her hands on his chest. His heart was thrumming beneath her fingers._

_Pushing her hair away from her face, he leaned in. "Of course not." Right before his lips touched hers, he stopped and murmured, "It's just a dream."_

_Helena's eyes slid closed, and she wrapped her fingers into Valentine's shirt. She could feel his breath puffing against her mouth and she leaned forward, anxious to feel him and –_

_The dream rocked, the water spilling out over the pool. They straightened, but Valentine didn't let go of her. "What happened?" Helena asked._

_It rocked again, sending Valentine into her. She managed to keep them both upright, steadying them._

_There was a noise, but it was so loud it hurt her ears. "What's going on?" she shouted, her hands over her ears._

_Valentine grabbed her wrists, pulling them away from her ears. He looked worried, "Wake up."_

_"What?"_

_"You have to wake up. Something's happening where you are. I don't-"_

_Helena cried out, wincing as pain burst along her side. She pressed her hand against the spot and when she drew it away, her skin was red._

_Valentine pressed his hand against her side, his skin beneath his mask pale. "Wake up."_

_"How?" Pain clearly didn't work._

_"Not pain," he mumbled, thinking along the same lines she had. He glanced at her, "Helena."_

_"Ye-"_

_Without warning, Valentine shoved her towards the ground. She fell backwards, but right before she hit the ground,_ her eyes snapped open. The pain in her side was still there and it was still far too loud, but she was back in her tent. Or what was left of it. Explosions rattled around her and she climbed out of the mess that had been her bed and tent.

"Helena!"

She was still on her knees as she looked up. Laurel was on her hands and knees, spitting blood out of her mouth. "You okay?"

"Sure," Helena responded. "You?"

Laurel shrugged, looking at the slice down her leg. "Feeling lucky."

It looked like something exploded a few yards outside their tent. Any closer and both of them would've been killed. As it was, part of the tent's supports had lodged in her side, causing the pain and bleeding. She grabbed her bag, which held her notebooks and pencils, and her sword. Her armor was a mess, but she salvaged the breastplate and the helmet. She pulled the bag over her head, tying the straps up so the bag hung down her back. Then she pulled on what was left of her armor and grabbed her sword.

Laurel had done the same, having saved her wrist guards as well.

Both of them had heard the sounds of battle. Helena tied her sword sheath onto her belt and kept the naked blade free. "Still feeling lucky?" she asked Laurel.

Laurel grinned, swinging her blade in a circle. "Damn right I am."

"Let's find Mags."

They had only managed to move a few feet when they heard a cry.

"To the Queen! The Queen!"

Helena and Laurel didn't hesitate. They sprinted towards the Queen's tent, shoving past fleeing civilians and wounded soldiers. A Shadow stepped in Helena's way and she cut down viciously, sending him reeling to the side and opening up her view.

The Queen's tent was gone. In its place, a crater of black shadows and white fabric. Helena's heart choked her for a moment before she looked to the side. The Queen lay on the ground, clearly wounded, surrounded by the few soldiers that were still standing, the Prime Minister, Mags, and Drag among them.

"Well, what do we have here?" a voice that was and wasn't Helena's asked.

The Princess moved forward from her Shadow army, smiling. Helena could see the portal that had opened up in their camp, answering how they'd gotten in so far.

They needed a miracle.

Helena scrabbled for her notebook, "Laurel, keep them off for three seconds!"

Laurel jumped into the fray, her sword added to her commander's and keeping the soldiers and Princess at bay for the seconds Helena needed. She finished the boom-stick in her notebook, throwing the paper to the ground and snatching up the weapon just as the Princess extended her hand and forced the guards away from the Queen.

"Finally," the Princess murmured, smiling as she raised her hand and the Queen was dragged to her feet by shadows. "It'll be over quickly," she laughed, stepping closer.

Drag and Mags tried to fight their way forward, but there were too many. The Princess wrapped her fingers around the Queen's throat.

"No!" Helena screamed.

No one stopped a faceless soldier. Helena shoved her way through, killing the few shadows that got in her way until she was right next to the Princess. The girl didn't even glance at Helena, too focused on the Queen.

"I told you, you'd all pay. I took away your Creator and now I'll take your Queen," the Princess announced to the crowd.

Helena ripped off her helmet, ignoring Mags's warning and the Prime Minister's shouts. "Looks like you didn't, actually."

The Princess went white, dropping the Queen out of pure shock. While she escaped back to their own people, the Princess advanced on Helena, shadows and dark magic sparking in her hands. "You little bitch. You should have stayed dead."

Helena laughed and lifted her boom-stick. "Yeah, not so good at that."

Helena fired and the Princess raised her hand, shadows blocking the blow almost completely, but sending the Princess back a step. Helena started to reload, but already saw that she wouldn't manage to do so in time, not before the Princess set her shadows on her.

The black-eyed girl snarled, "Just die, already!"

Helena braced herself-

An explosion rang out from just without the portal, sending all who were near it to the ground. In the echoing moments, the Princess turned her gaze on that, her eyes glaring at the distraction.

Helena took her chance, attacking the Princess when her back was turned. The point of her boom-stick went against the Princess's back and Helena pulled the trigger.

The Princess screamed as a good portion of her side vanished. Shadows exploded out, knocking everyone backwards. When they cleared, the Princess, the portal, the shadows, and her army were gone.

"What just happened?" Mags asked, helping the Queen to her feet.

Helena stood up slowly, still favoring her side, "I have no idea, but I'm glad."


	12. What we've done

"You lying, sneaking, bastard!" the Princess screamed.

Valentine wiped the flour off his robe, still smirking. He'd known that if Helena's dream had been that bad, things were about to get worse. He'd locked his guard in the closet and ran to the flour storage, grabbing a cart and bringing as much as he could to the portal. He'd been able to stick his head through, and nearly choked when he saw the Princess advancing on Helena. However, he'd lit the flour kegs and given Helena the time she needed.

The Princess stalked towards him and he didn't blink. "You knew she was alive!"

He just smiled.

She turned and he saw the gash that Helena had made in her side. It wasn't as bad as it had been just minutes ago – the shadows were stitching her together again - and certainly not fatal. But it proved what some people had begun to question - the Princess was mortal.

"I'll send out the copy again. She fell for it once-"

"She won't fall for it again," Valentine assured her. "She learns fast."

The Princess turned on him, her eyes blazing, "Then I'll drag you to the Choir and send out your empty shell!"

"And you still won't kill her."

The Princess clenched her fist and the spider around his wrist tightened painfully. He didn't cry out, but he clutched the screaming limb to his chest.

Moving her other hand down, she forced Valentine to kneel. He had to, he couldn't fight against the shadows, but he didn't drop his gaze or cry out, even when the spider squeezed harder.

"You cost me today, Val," she whispered. "I don't take kindly to people sabotaging my plans."

He didn't say anything. He knew going in that he would have to pay for his actions. So when the Princess started in on him, Valentine closed his eyes. Instead of feeling the shadows, he felt Helena's hands on his chest. Instead of the sound of the Princess swearing and snarling at him, he heard Helena's laughter. And when he wasn't able to keep from crying out, he remembered the way Helena felt in his arms, the way she had let him touch her, he way she had looked just seconds before she'd been taken away.

In the end, the Princess tired before he ran out of dreams to relive. When he woke up, he was alone in the Tower, three guards now assigned to guard him. He cleaned himself up as best he could, changed back into his regular clothes, and retired to his chair. Four broken fingers, a wrenched shoulder, and a handful of broken ribs weren't bad, all things considered. Quite a few cuts and bruises, one bad slice along his back. He'd had worse.

Valentine stared out the window, unable to keep a smile from his face.

He did his best to stay awake the next few nights, sleeping during the day when he knew Helena would be up and about. The Princess was lingering around him more, keeping an eye on him. Valentine didn't want to risk her finding out his secret.

One late afternoon, after a short nap, he wandering down to the kitchen and saw a book on the table. The Princess's latest read. Looking around, Valentine saw the Princess through his window, along with the guards assigned to him. Taking the chance, he slid out of the view of the window and flipped the book open, the crackle of the fire in his hearth disguising the sound.

Most of the pages were covered with the Princess's notes and underlines. A lot of it repeated what he had read before – the copies, the illusions… He flipped to a clean page, free of the Princess's marks and made to move on when something caught his eye.

_When the two held the Mask…_

Valentine paused and looked up, making sure the Princess was still engaged before bending down to read more.

_Having given her copy freedom, the first Prime Minister did not know that it would be her undoing. After the first Shadow Wars, the first Minister tracked down her copy and sought to undo her. The copy did not desire this and a great battle broke out. After blood had been spilt on both sides, the Prime Minister reached for the Mask the same time her copy did. When the two held the Mask at the same moment, an imbalance occurred._

_Two cannot exist when there should only be one and they certainly cannot bear the Mask at the same time. The weaker was undone, the stronger survived. The first Minister was destroyed, and that was the beginning of the first Shadow Queen._

Valentine didn't breathe as he reread the passage. _The weaker was undone, the stronger survived._ That was it. That was how to defeat the Princess.

He ripped the page out of the book and shut it, stepping away as the door opened. The Princess glared at him as he rummaged through his cupboard, trying to feign hunger as he hid the paper in his palm.

"Finally awake, Val?" she asked him archly.

"No, obviously I'm still upstairs asleep," he answered, grabbing a commaquat and biting into it.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the book off the table, handing it to one of Valentine's guards. "Take this to my tent. I'll be along shortly."

The guard nodded and stumbled off, the other two taking their positions outside the Tower doors.

The Princess advanced on him and poked his chest, right where his broken ribs grated together. "Feeling better?"

He couldn't help but wince, "Absolutely."

She trailed her fingers up his arm, "You know, Val, this could be much easier. If you just behaved and did as you were told, I wouldn't have to hurt you. I don't enjoy it, Val, if I'm being completely honest. We could be friends."

The image of what she expected from him in her tent flashed through his mind. "Rather have the pain, if we're being honest."

She scraped her nails down his face, leaving welts in her wake. Valentine took the minor pain without comment as she turned on her heel and walked out of his Tower. Valentine, hunching over his pained ribs, hurried over to the hearth and threw the page inside the flames, making sure it burnt before he went upstairs.

He needed to get some sleep tonight.

* * *

_Helena dreamed about Valentine that night. He didn't appear right away and when he did, he seemed startled. He looked away, staring at the Pool._

_"Hey," Helena said, stepping forward._

_"Hi," he said, sounding distracted._

_"Everything okay?" she asked him._

" _Yes, Helena, we need to talk." He didn't seem to want to look at her. She ignored that. Helena walked over and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn around._

_When he did, she almost wished she hadn't._

_Helena reached up and touched his chin, tilting his face down. "Valentine...what happened?"_

_He took a step back, just out of her reach. "Not important."_

_"Did she do this to you?" Helena asked. She could now see the way he handled his shoulder and arm - luckily not the one she had pulled on. The bruises spread down below his mask, visible through his darker skin, and there were scuffs on it that weren't there before. A few of his fingers were skewed unnaturally._

_He didn't answer her, apparently finding that the answer was obvious._

_"Why did she hurt you?" Helena asked. He wouldn't let her near him, so she sat down on the edge of the pool, hoping he would do so as well._

_"I pissed her off. More so than usual." He took a seat and made to lean forward before wincing. When he straightened up, Helena recognized the way he was holding himself._

_"Broken rib?" she questioned._

_"Multiple, I should think." He smirked when she looked at him. "I went above and beyond."_

_"Do you want me to wrap it for you?"_

_"We're in a dream. It won't help."_

_"Then why does it still hurt you?"_

_"Because it still hurts when I'm sleeping. Which just seems incredibly unfair."_

_Helena smiled, but it faded when she saw his bruises again. "How did you piss her off?"_

_He shook his head, "Don't worry about it. What you should worry about is something I read."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"She's been collecting these books. All these things about the Mask and how to use it. But I think she missed something."_

_"What?"_

_"There was a small part of one of the books, one of the last ones she got. That one told her about making additional copies of people and things. That page was all scribbled in - she's got no respect for books at all."_

_Helena recalled the first time she'd seen Valentine with a book - yelling at it and throwing it to the ground - and smiled. He seemed to remember it as well and stopped, glancing down for a moment._

_"Near the end, there was a paragraph about the copies, mixed in with one of the Shadow Wars. I don't think she saw it, but I read something there. If two copies hold onto the MirrorMask at the same time, the weaker copy will be destroyed. They'll dissolve."_

_Helena swallowed, staring at her hands. "So if the Princess and I were to both hold onto the Mask...one of us would vanish? The weaker one?"_

_"The Princess."_

_"Maybe."_

_"Definitely."_

_Helena scoffed, glancing at him. "Look, it's been a while. You don't know me like you did."_

_"I didn't really know you to begin with."_

_She looked back at her hands, unable to argue. He was right. They hadn't really gotten to know one another. But Helena still felt like she knew him. And she had thought that he had felt the same, at one point in his life. But she realized that she was wrong, about this and about a lot of other-_

_"-and I still know that it'll be her."_

_She shook her head. "How can you possibly know that?"_

_He shrugged (and then grimaced). "I do. She puts on a show. She's psychotic. And vicious. But not strong."_

_Helena rubbed her face, feeling exhausted even in her sleep. "So, now all I have to do is defeat a shadow army, get into the castle, find the Princess, get her to give me the Mask while holding onto it, all while not being murdered by her shadows or whatever minions she's got stashed away in there."_

_Valentine said, "Simple, really."_

_"And what side will you be on, Valentine?" she asked him quietly._

_He glanced at her. "Well, I think we can clearly see I'm not on her side."_

_"Yeah, but my side thinks you're a murderer, a thief, and a traitor. They wanted to arrest you."_

_He chuckled, "Good thing they've already killed me, then."_

_"Valentine..."_

_"You don't need me. You can do this."_

_She leaned over and brushed his face with the back of her fingers. "What about you? How many more of these are you going to get before I can get there?"_

_"Depends on how well I keep my mouth shut." He thought and cocked his head. "So, I wouldn't dally if I were you."_

_"But, I-"_

" _By the way," he said, catching her fingers. "I think you owe me something."_

_How could she concentrate on that when he looked like this? "But-"_

" _I won, fair and square, like you said," he cut in, turning her palm over in his hands._

_She smiled unintentionally and he smirked at her._

_A wind came up, blowing Helena's hair in her face. She turned into it with a frown. "What is that?"_

_Valentine jumped up, pulling her with him, "No, no…no-no-no, she couldn't. She can't. This is my dream."_

" _Valentine?" Helena asked, pulling on his arm. "What is it?"_

_The wind picked up higher, creating tiny cyclones of dirt that stung and bit at their faces. Valentine still stared into the wind, his eyes squinting behind the mask. "It's her."_

_He turned and grabbed her arms, "Wake up."_

_She stuttered, "I-I can't just wake up, I-"_

" _She's not even supposed to be here. I don't know what she could do to you. Wake up," he ordered, his grip on her arms stinging, even through the fuzziness of the dream._

_Helena shook her head, "Valentine-"_

_He pushed her, like he had before, and Helena fell backwards and-_

_-hit the ground. Helena met Valentine's panicked eyes, feeling her own control beginning to crack. She got on her feet, refusing to meet the Princess on the ground._

_Shadows crept up around them and Valentine pulled at his hair, "No. No! You can't be here!"_

_Helena grabbed his arms, "Valentine…" She would never let the Princess see her frightened, and she doubted Valentine would want that either._

_He calmed as the shadows started rising. A new look settled over his face – stubborn, angry, cold. The only thing that reminded Helena of her friend was the hand wrapped around hers._

" _I told you, Val…" the voice echoed from the darkness._

_Helena felt Valentine tense slightly as the Princess stepped out from the shadows._

" _There's nowhere you can go that I can't follow."_

_The Princess looked as she always did, no wound from where Helena had hit her. No concern, or anger. Just a cold, calculating, and merciless face. Valentine let go of Helena's hand and stepped forward, leaving her alone._

" _Nice trick, invading my dreams, Princess," Valentine sneered. Helena remembered that tone from the time that they'd fought and hated that it was back._

" _I couldn't help it," the Princess said, crossing over to Valentine. She patted his face and the juggler flinched away. "You were being so secretive."_

" _Wonder why," Valentine answered._

" _You know I'll have to punish you."_

"' _Cause everything else so far has just been fun for me?"_

" _You're overstepping your boundaries, Val."_

" _And you're overstuffing your ego, Princess."_

_The Princess laughed, then clenched her fist. Valentine's face contorted and he grabbed his wrist, holding it to his chest, but never making a sound. Well, he didn't make a sound of pain, but Helena heard curses spilling out of his mouth like breath._

" _Hush," the Princess said, stepping over him. "I'm being rude to our guest."_

_Helena didn't flinch as the Princess approached her, taking a cue from Valentine. "I couldn't tell the difference."_

_The Princess just smiled. "You think you're so clever."_

" _Only compared to some."_

_Valentine barked out a laugh, getting a glare from the Princess._

_His laughter broke off as the Princess twisted her hand. Valentine's wrist rotated and this time, he did cry out._

" _Leave him alone!" Helena shouted._

" _What's the matter, Hel?" the Princess asked, ignoring the juggler as he dropped to his knees. "Can't take a little competition?"_

" _Is that what you think this war is?" Helena asked. "A competition?"_

_The Princess tapped her lips, "Oh, you silly little girl."_

_Helena refused to answer, not wanting to look foolish._

" _Not that I blame you," the Princess continued. "He is quite a lot of fun to be around, even when he's not trying to be."_

_Helena involuntarily glanced over to Valentine, who had managed to rise, hunched over his arm._

" _And though I expected it to be good," the Princess whispered, "I wasn't quite prepared for how fun he was in bed, too."_

_Valentine's head snapped up, even though his face was pasty with pain. "You bitc-"_

_"Quiet," she said, snapping her fingers. Shadows sprung up around Valentine, wrapping around his ankles. Helena saw him bite his tongue, reaching for his wrist again and took a step towards him, but the wall of shadows rose up, swaying before her._

_"No, no," the Princess said. "Stay where you are."_

_Helena pinched her arm, trying to wake up._

_The Princess laughed, "You're stuck here, my dear. Let's have some fun."_

_It was a dream. She knew that. There was a dullness behind the pain, but that didn't make it any less. Pins and blades of shadows dug beneath her skin, her nails, into her mouth and ears. She started out silent, though she wasn't sure she continued that way. The Princess systematically marched every iota of pain across her body, until she couldn't keep track of where it hurt, because everything hurt. All she was aware of was the pain._

_And the laughter of the Princess._

_And the silence of the juggler._

_Closing her eyes, Helena succumbed to the pain and knew that she was no longer able to hold back. Her cries echoed off of the water and the stone, doing nothing to stop it from happening._

_Then it was over._

_Helena was on her hands and knees, her throat scraped raw and her limbs weaker than noodles. She looked up between the sweat-soaked strands of her hair and saw the Princess seated on the edge of the pool and yawning._

_"Amazingly, not quite as satisfying as I thought," she commented._

_"H-hate to be a disappointment," Helena mumbled, her head sagging._

_"Oh, but you are," the Princess said. "Here I thought you were this grand adversary, but it turns out you're nothing more than a stupid little girl."_

_Helena stared at the ground, unable to muster the courage or ability to speak up._

_"And I've outgrown you," the Princess murmured, standing up. "It's time to end this." The shadows that had brought her pain for the past few hours started to congeal into one large, sharp blade._

_Helena tried to get up, but her legs wouldn't support her._

_"Stop," shouted Valentine._

_"Please, Val," said the Princess. "Nothing you can say would stop this."_

_The shadows rose up above Helena's head._

_"Fine, if you want people to believe it was an accident!"_

_The shadow stopped._

_"What was that?" the Princess asked, turning on Valentine._

_"The Creator dies in the middle of the night, with no evidence or clues? Must be an accident." Valentine's eyes never flickered towards Helena, but stayed locked on the Shadow Princess._

_"I will make an announcement that-"_

_"Because you've always been honest about everything you do and say," he interrupted. "Everyone's bound to believe you."_

_"So I suppose you want me to let her live?" she asked condescendingly._

_"You want to want to let her live," retorted Valentine quickly. "So when you meet her again, you can kill her in public."_

_"You don't want me to kill her at all," the Princess snapped._

_"That hardly matters. Kill her now and take the easy way out. Kill her later and get the fame," he answered easily._

_Helena was glad that she was looking at the ground. She knew what he was trying to do, but it didn't help that he was talking of her death in such a cavalier way._

_When she looked up, the Princess was eyeing her in such a manner that it was clear Valentine's words hadn't quite gotten through. She had a crazy idea, but the worst it would do was get her killed..._

_Forcing a smile past her already broken lips, Helena laughed, "Don't be stupid, Valentine. She's too scared for that."_

_"Excuse me?" the Princess icy voice rolled over her shoulders._

_"You're scared to face me in a real fight. So you'll take the easy way out and kill me now, just like the coward you are," Helena spat out._

_"I am the Shadow Queen," she said, stalking over to Helena. "Nothing scares me."_

_"Then why did you wait until I was unconscious to come after me?" Helena asked, forcing herself to her knees. She was dizzy and could see the edges of her vision starting to grow dark, but as long as the Princess didn't know that... "You'll just do it now, when you know for sure you'll win, because in the real world, on the real battlefields, you're not certain, are you?"_

_The Princess's face contorted, "Spoiled little, brat!"_

_"Says the terrified little girl," shot back the Creator._

_The Princess flew at Helena, knocking the exhausted girl to the ground. A searing pain went through Helena's hand and she couldn't help but scream. When she looked over, her hand was pierced through with a shard of shadow magic, pinning her to the ground. She couldn't feel her fingers. She couldn't pull it out of the ground._

_"I'll let you live tonight," the Princess panted as she rose, "and I'll take it out of his hide."_

_Helena looked up in time to see Valentine and the Princess vanish._


	13. So we don't say anything

Helena didn't remember most of the next few days.

Flashes of information and movement surged through her head.

"...get her to medical tent!"

"Have to save that blade..."

"...broke off."

"What happen-"

She felt herself being moved and shifted. And she felt the pain.

Someone pulled the blade from her palm. She felt that, too, and screamed.

"It's okay, it's okay, we've got you..."

It wasn't okay.

The next thing she could recall was the feel of someone tending to her cuts and bruises. Despite being inflicted in a dream, she still very much felt it now. She couldn't shy away from the pain, though whoever it was seemed aware.

"Shh...I know it hurts...lie still."

Hours later, Helena managed to climb out of the darkness and open her eyes, seeing Laurel next to her bed. She wasn't able to talk, but some sort of raspy cough came out and got her attention.

"Hey," Laurel breathed, sitting up. "Welcome back."

Helena tried to smile, but even that hurt. "W-what happened?" she whispered.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Laurel said. "I woke up and you were thrashing and yelling and..."

"Princess."

"We figured that out. Drag pulled a piece of shadow out of your hand and-"

Helena paused and glanced at her hand. It was heavily wrapped up, but she could feel the ache throbbing in her palm. But she couldn't move it.

"It's bad," Laurel admitted. "But the Queen and Prime Minister think it'll heal fine. But..."

"But?"

Laurel shook her head. "We can talk about it later. What happened? How did the Princess get to you in the tent, without me seeing her?"

"Pool."

"The Pool?" Laurel frowned. "The Pool of Dreams?"

Helena hesitated, then nodded.

Laurel jumped up, her face set, "I have to get the Prime Minister."

"No, wait-" Helena tried to sit up, but her friend moved too quickly. She tried to keep her eyes open, but the recovery demanded rest and soon she fell back into the darkness.

When she woke up again, it was with a far better sense of awareness than she had before. Mags, Laurel, and the Queen were inside the medical tent with her, straightening up when they saw her eyes open.

"About time," Mags immediately said, though Helena could see the relief on her face.

She smiled, relieved when it didn't hurt, "Hi to you, too."

"We've missed you," the Queen said, standing up and coming over to check her forehead.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Three days," Laurel answered.

Mags shook her head. "Waste of space, you."

Helena laughed, only wincing a little. The Queen took her bandaged hand in hers and said, "It's still healing, but I need to change it. Can you handle that?"

Shrugging, Helena tried to keep still as the bandaged was unwrapped and tugged on her healing skin. When it was revealed, she suddenly realized why the Queen had asked for permission.

The wound was quite bad. A gaping hole in her flesh that almost went all the way through and had the pasty, damp skin starting to heal around it. The cotton was packed into the hole, almost an inch across, and the Queen carefully pulled it out. Helena hissed, but did her best not to move. Dampening new cotton in a solution, she started packing it back in.

And that wasn't the worst part.

Small tendrils of shadows spread out from the hole in a starburst, moving slightly with her pulse.

"What..." Helena trailed off, staring at the shadows.

"The blade that we pulled from you, the very tip of it had broken off. Before we could get to it, it...melted and merged with your skin." The Queen finished rewrapping Helena's hand. "It doesn't seem to be doing you any harm. Our only other option was to amputate."

Covering her bandaged hand with the other, Helena shook her head. "No. I'm right-handed."

The Queen nodded, then sat on the edge of her bed. "We need to talk, Helena."

Bracing herself, Helena nodded.

"The Princess attacked you at the Pool of Dreams."

A nod.

"You're familiar with that place?"

Another nod.

"How?"

"The first time I was here, we ended up there on our trip. My mother appeared and she thought she was dreaming, but it was my dream. Or the MirrorWorld. Something like that," Helena said.

The Queen nodded and seemed ready to move on. "We had to-"

"But," Helena interrupted quietly, "I've been there several times recently. In the past few weeks."

"Alone?" the Queen asked after a breath.

Helena shook her head. The Queen's eyes bore into hers, seeing something there that made her nod shortly. "I see."

She didn't bother trying to justify herself, she accepted the slight cold look the Queen was giving her, and the incredulous ones Laurel and Mags were sending her way. "He told me things about the Princess and the Mask."

"Did he?"

Helena nodded. "She's been collecting the books from the Library, all about the Mask. He read them and found a short history. Two copies holding the Mask at the same time would make the weaker copy disappear."

"So you think that if you were to hold the Mask at the same time as the Princess, that she would vanish?" Laurel asked.

Helena shrugged, "Worth a shot, right?"

"Is it, though?" the Queen responded. "Taking his word and risking your life?"

"I...I could ask him," Helena suggested quietly, feeling as if she were disappointing the Queen more and more with every word.

This time, the Queen was the one who hesitated. "You can't, actually."

Her throat constricted. Had the Princess killed him for speaking up?

"When Laurel reported that you had been to the Pool, and we'd figured out that's where you were attacked, we took measures to make sure you wouldn't be pulled back there to be attacked again," the Queen said.

"What kinds of measures?"

Laurel spoke up, "We put together a potion that you drank while you were unconscious. It'll keep you from going back there."

"Ever?"

The Queen nodded, "As long as you continue taking it. Which you will until the Princess is captured or defeated."

Knowing she had disappointed them and that she was lucky she wasn't being put on trial right this second for treason, Helena just nodded.

The Queen continued to stare at her for a moment, then her face smoothed and she brushed Helena's hair back from her face. "I'm glad you're all right."

"I'm sorry. I should have said something."

The Queen smiled slightly. "The heart wants what the heart wants. We can't do much to change it, however much we may want-"

"Your Majesty?"

Had she not been sitting so close to the Queen, Helena wouldn't have seen the tiniest flush appear on her cheeks as she turned to face the Prime Minister.

"Yes?"

He stepped inside with a bow, glancing at Helena and smiling, "Glad to see you're up and awake."

"Finally," Drag added from the flap.

"I hate to intrude," the Prime Minister directed his words to the Queen, "but Drag may have found a weakness in her defenses and we'd like your input on that before we solidify anything."

"That's wonderful," Mags said, sitting up.

"Perhaps, but how much good it'll do against the Princess herself has yet to be seen," Drag admitted.

The Queen glanced at Helena, waiting for her nod before saying, "We may have an answer to that."

* * *

Valentine wished he couldn't remember the past few days. One moment of pain followed by another until he was finally cut down and allowed back to his bed. The Princess was still pissed at him, but he was just happy it was over.

Not that he deserved it.

He had been there, right there, as the Princess hurt Helena, and what had he done?

Not a single thing.

Sure, he could justify it. He couldn't get to her. Even if he had, what could he have done? Even if he could have done something, she would have just thrown him back and continued on. Even if he could have gotten up, what could he do to her in a dream? She was almost untouchable in reality, the dream was much worse.

Though at this point, he didn't recall it so much as a dream, but a nightmare. One of his worst. Helena never called his name specifically, but he knew that he should have helped her. But all he did was stand there and allow the shadows to hold him back.

He had spoken up in the end, he reminded himself. Though of course, it was Helena who'd finally convinced the Princess to let her live. Because she was Helena, the Creator, the hero, the maskless girl, and he was just a Valentine. She didn't need him. And being around him, even just in her dreams, proved to be dangerous for her. Too dangerous.

Didn't change the fact that he still hoped to see her.

_That night, at the Pool of Dreams, Valentine waited._

_And waited._

_And...waited._

_And...and...nothing._

_No Helena. There was a feeling of aloneness in the air that he had never quite felt here before. Somehow he knew that there would be no visit from the maskless girl._

_Resigning himself to being alone tonight, Valentine settled sorely onto the edge of the Pool, hoping to at least get a breath away from the Princess. She'd been rather relentless, never giving him even a moment to sleep until now. He was going to take advantage of the silence, he told himself, he wasn't going to think about Helena or Princesses or -_

_"Hello?"_

_He jumped up, feeling the grate of muscles and bones that weren't quite in the right place, and spun to face -_

_\- the Queen?_

_No. The Shadow Queen?_

_No. No. He knew her._

_Helena's mum stared at him, a tiny frown between her eyes. "I know you. I dreamed you up years ago. You were here. With...with..." she trailed off, looking around._

_"She's not here," Valentine told her quietly._

_"I know," she said, coming over and sitting on the edge of the Pool. "She's still in hospital."_

_Valentine looked around, still confused at how she managed to get here. Then he sat next to Helena's mum, not too close._

_"What happened?" he asked._

_She was already crying, but she spoke clearly, as if she had said it so many times that she was reciting it now. "There was an accident. Her trailer was hit by a car and it rolled. She hasn't woken up yet. It's been months."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_She sighed, wiping her yes. "But she's not here, either?"_

_"She's here," Valentine admitted. "Just not,_ here _. She's with friends, though. Good people."_

_"Why aren't you with her?" she asked._

_Valentine tried to smile, "Because I'm not good people."_

_"But you're her boyfriend."_

_He stared, then laughed shortly. "No. No, I'm not."_

_"Yes, last time she was here, I said I had dreamed her up a boyfriend, and then she was drawing you all the time," she argued with him._

_Valentine shook his head, without answering._

_She remained quiet for some time, listening to the water from the Pool._

_"I miss her," she whispered into the air._

_Valentine nodded. "Me too."_

_"You care about her, then?" her mother asked curtly._

_He shrugged, not willing to admit to anything._

_"You do," she assumed, moving past his silence. "You do. So you'll take care of her."_

_Valentine looked at her, "I told you, I'm not good people."_

_"I don't care. I can't look after her here. You can. I need you to take care of her. I need you to make sure she's okay, because I need to know that she's okay," she insisted._

_He still didn't answer._

_She took his hands in hers, "What's your name?"_

_"Valentine."_

_She smiled slightly, her face still glistening with tears, "Valentine. That's a nice name."_

_He didn't disagree._

_"Valentine. That's my daughter. And I need someone to take care of her, no matter what happens. No matter what she does or how you feel. Protect her. Please, tell me you'll do what's best for her? Because she's a wonderful girl who doesn't deserve this."_

_He couldn't disagree with any of that, either._

_She squeezed his hands and stared at him in the way that mothers were supposed to look. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced and he...he couldn't..._

_"She doesn't deserve it," Valentine said quietly. "I'll do what's best for Helena. No matter what."_

_"Do you promise?"_

_He nodded slowly, "I promise."_

_With that, Valentine locked away a part of himself that had never really had a chance in the first place._

* * *

"Absolutely not."

"Don't be an idiot, Drag," Mags snapped, "This is the best chance we have."

"This isn't a chance, it's a suicide mission," the Librarian said quietly.

"You are not walking into the Castle of Shadows and that's final," Drag ordered.

Helena fumed in her seat, "But he said-"

"Who?" Drag snapped, turning on her.

Helena cursed her tongue and saw Mags shift uncomfortably.

"Where are you getting your information from?" Drag pressed.

Helena took a breath. "Valentine."

"He's dead."

"No. The one that attacked me on the roof, and that Drag killed, that was a copy. The Princess has figured out how to make copies of people."

"Convenient."

"Drag," Helena said, "he's been helping me."

"Of course he has, which is why you nearly died."

"If it weren't for him it wouldn't have been 'nearly,'" Helena snapped at him. "He spoke up and got her to stop. He got hurt for it."

"So are you going after her or him?" Drag asked.

"Either way, with your information, we have to go!"

"I told you this was a mistake!" Drag shouted, making everyone in the vicinity jump. "She's compromised!"

Helena got to her feet, knocking away the helpful attempts to steady her from Mags and the Prime Minister. "How dare you," she whispered. "I have done everything for you and the Queen."

"Valent-"

"I watched him die," Helena cut in. "Copy or not, he died in front of me and I didn't try to save him. Doesn't that tell you my loyalty? And dammit, take him out of the equation if you'd like. Either way, I just gave up the biggest break since this war began. If it means getting rid of the Princess than we've got to try it."

"We aren't risking you, Helena," the Prime Minister tried to lower the tension.

Helena slammed her fist onto the table. "I am sick of that excuse. My life isn't more important than anyone else's. How many more have to die before the rest of you see that?"

"We don't trust your source."

"I don't give a damn what you do or don't trust. If there's even the slightest chance it'll work, we should try."

"But-"

"Do you want this war to end or not?" Helena interrupted the Prime Minister.

The silence was both endearing and frustrating.

"Yes," the Queen said quietly. "Yes. This war needs to end. And we will do what's necessary. We will take what information and help we can get from any quarter. But we will be cautious and thorough."

She turned to the Librarian. "Search what few books you have left to corroborate the information we've been given. Drag and Helena," she said meeting their eyes, "you will work together and confirm your suspicions."

While the Queen delegated, Helena settled back into her chair and pulled out the _Book_. Quietly enough to only disturb Mags, she whispered, "What do you know about the Mask?"

_MirrorMask: Can copy things and people. Can let you imitate people. Can open gates between worlds. Can allow travel between worlds without replacing the alternate world's person. Can ward off Shadow powers'._

Helena noticed that the handwriting was different, but passed it to the Queen just the same. "Majesty."

The Queen looked it over and nodded. "With Drag's discovery and Helena's information, we should move quickly. The Princess won't wait long to retaliate…" She looked up at Drag. "How much time do you need?"

"Three days. A week, tops."

"Six days," she told him. "On the seventh, we'll attack the Shadow Kingdom."

The faces around the table were serious but resigned. Helena stared at her palm and wondered who she would have to face on the sixth day.


	14. I don't suppose you'd even notice

Helena and Laurel lay in their tent, both of them awake and staring at the canvas above them, but not saying anything for several minutes.

"Are you scared?" Laurel asked quietly.

Helena thought back to the past week. From the moment the Queen had ordered them to prepare, that's exactly what they had done. Practice, training, planning, reviewing, then doing it all over again. The plan was actually very simple and straightforward. It was just the execution that was going to make it difficult. Tracing the scar on her hand, and feeling the faint shift of the shadows just beneath her skin, Helena answered. "Yes. But this needs to end."

"What about Valentine?" Laurel questioned.

Helena closed her eyes with a frown and remembered the conversation she had only a day before.

" _He'll need to be tried," the Librarian told her._

" _But he's helping," Helena argued._

_The Prime Minister cut in, his voice sympathetic, but his words filled with logic, "He's helping now, Helena. But before this, he was the prime suspect in abductions, thefts, even murder."_

" _He wouldn't-"_

" _He did," Drag said stubbornly._

" _You don't know that," she argued._

" _And you don't know him." Drag continued on, "Not anymore."_

_She started to her feet, but the Prime Minister put his hand on her shoulder. "Whether you like it or not, he's been working with the Princess. We don't know why," he cut across her argument, "and there may be a wonderful reason that absolves him of everything. But until we know, he will be treated as a prisoner of war."_

_She settled back into her chair._

" _He'll get a fair trial," Mags told her. "If he cooperates." The smaller woman walked around the table as the Prime Minister returned to his position. "Choose your battles," she whispered in Helena's ear._

_Helena nodded._

" _Let's go over this again," Drag said, meeting Helena's eyes to be sure that this part of the conversation was over. "The metallics and half of us will create a diversion on the west side of the castle, near the gate. Mags will lead the other half to the east side, where intel says there is a smaller gate. It will undoubtedly be guarded, but it's the best chance we have. Our map leads us to believe that the throne room is the most likely place to keep the Mask. With Helena's new found abilities and the shadow dagger shards, we should be able to get in at both sides, have her get in, find the Mask and finish this off."_

Her new ability. Helena poked the shadow in her palm again, hating and grateful for the Princess at the same time. When they had discovered it, it had been an accident.

" _So this is what was in me, huh?" she asked, still feeling the faint ache in her palm from the dagger._

" _Yup." Laurel crossed her arms as Nodd went to pick it up. "Careful."_

" _It's cold," he exclaimed, tossing it from hand to hand._

" _It's a shadow," Laurel said, taking it from him. "What'd you expect? Anyway, I wanted you to see it before Drag had it cut down and molded it to our weapons." Part of the grand scheme was to place bits of the shadow on as many weapons as they could. Shadows couldn't withstand attacks from other shadows. They would just dissipate._

_She handed it to Helena, who automatically reached out with her dominant, and injured, hand._

_The dagger clattered to the ground._

" _What the hell…?" Nodd whispered._

" _You aren't that clumsy," Laurel added._

_Helena picked it up with her other hand and held the cold shadow. Carefully, she passed it to the other one._

_The shadow vanished around her palm, then reformed as it fell._

" _Of course," Laurel said. "Shadows can't fight shadows and with it in your hand…"_

" _You can fight the shadows," Nodd finished._

_Heart racing, Helena clenched her wounded hand into a fist. She could fight back against the shadows._

"Are you going to try to save him?" Laurel whispered, when Helena didn't answer her first question.

Helena rolled onto her side, knowing that even if she kept her eyes open all night long, she would still see only one face in her mind.

Taking on an army to save the world was a huge responsibility. Helena couldn't work like that. She needed a smaller goal. She couldn't save the world.

But maybe, she could save her best friend.

"Yes."

* * *

The Princess had used this past week to retreat back to her castle. While she had maintained the look as if she were winning, fact was, the explosion had damaged the portal she had created and Helena's wound, while it didn't look bad, was still grieving her greatly.

Valentine knew this.

The Army of Light was marching on the castle and would be here by the next day. This would be the biggest battle of the war and it would determine who exactly would be walking away as the victor.

Valentine knew this.

He had been shoved into his cell of a room once again. By the end of tomorrow, it was likely that he'd be dead or in jail. If the Princess won, he would attempt to kill her. That was a fact. But if he failed, he would take himself out of the equation. And if the Princess lost, he would be put into prison for all the horrible things he had done in the past three years.

Valentine knew this.

He knew all these important, life-changing things were about to happen in the next day or two.

But all he could wonder is what Helena was doing.

Was she all right?

Had she recovered?

Was it as bad as it looked?

Was she not sleeping anymore?

Had she told the army about him?

Was she wondering what he was doing, too?

He rolled over for the umpteenth time that night, wishing for his bed back in his Tower. At least he felt more at home there, even though he was still a prisoner.

He hadn't dreamed about her or her mother. He hadn't even been to the Pool of Dreams once this week. He had a feeling that it wasn't going to happen for him again.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, though he knew it wouldn't do anything.

" _I promise,"_ he'd said.

"Val."

His eyes opened, but he didn't move from his bed.

"I just wanted to make things clear for tomorrow," she said from his doorway. There hadn't been much interaction since she had torn into him. "You will stay here. Guards will be posted. I'm going to be very busy and I don't want you throwing a wrench into my plans, as you are so inclined to do."

"Piss off," he said to the wall.

"Everything's going to change tomorrow, Val. I'd be on my best behavior if I were you," she warned him.

Valentine breathed a sigh of relief as she exited his room, shutting the door behind her.

He'd promised to protect Helena. To look after her. Obviously the Princess was the biggest danger.

Rolling onto his back, he stared blankly at the ceiling, the roiling pit in his stomach making clear what he had been trying to avoid thinking.

There wasn't really anyone else besides the Princess that Helena had to be protected form. Except for one. A man who was a criminal, a murderer, and a traitor. A man who'd sacrificed Helena's safety, even knowing how clever the Princess could be, just to spend time with her in his dreams. An awful, awful man.

Valentine knew this.

He had no doubt that tomorrow Helena would at some point burst through the doors. She would come in, eyes blazing, and do her damnedest to put a stop to this war.

And he'd be there to help her, no matter what she thought of him. No matter what the Princess would do. No matter what he thought of himself. No matter what happened.

Because he promised.

No matter what.

* * *

By the time Laurel woke up, Helena was already awake and dressed, her sword at her hip and a boom-stick across her lap.

"Did you sleep at all?" Laurel asked, getting changed.

"Not really," she admitted, rubbing her palm to make sure she could still swing her sword.

"Ready for the big day?" Laurel tried to smile.

"Yeah, I gu-"

"Up and at 'em," Drag ordered through the canvas. "Ten minutes 'til formation."

He stomped away, yelling at other tents to wake up. Helena jumped to her feet and ran after him.

Today would end with one death or another. It wouldn't do to go out with a grudge.

"Drag!" she shouted, chasing after him. "Drag, wait a minute."

He stopped and turned to face her.

"I'm sorry," Helena said quietly. "For everything."

The soldier could never be accused of appearing gentle, but his face softened. Just a little. "Don't be."

Helena scoffed at that and his mouth quirked up.

"You did what you thought was right," Drag said. "I can respect that, even if I don't agree."

"But I never...I didn't want to disappoint you," Helena told him.

Drag touched her arm. "You never could, Creator."

"No matter what happens today," she said, "I'm really glad that you're my friend."

"And I've never met a hero quite like you."

"Ha," she laughed.

"I mean it." He paused, letting go of her arm. "And if Valentine allows us, I'll do my best to ensure that he gets a fair trial."

She knew that he wasn't certain that Valentine was innocent. But she appreciated the gesture. "Thank you."

"We'll get through this, Helena. One way or another."

"Yeah," she said, eyeing the Shadow Castle.

One way or another.

* * *

"This is insane…" Laurel whispered.

Nodd hissed from the other side of her, "You're just realizing this now?"

Helena smiled and hushed both of them. They were hunkered down about three hundred feet from the Shadow Castle's walls, listening as the sound of battle raged from the castle's western edge.

Mags glanced over her shoulder at them. "Hush up."

The trio grinned but fell quiet.

"We need to wait until we know the gates have fallen. Then she'll be too distracted over there to focus on the eastern edge," Mags told them.

Helena was familiar with the plan. It had been rehashed again and again during the past few days. The squads that crouched behind them knew the plan as well. Which, when broken down, was quite simple.

Get inside the walls. Get inside the castle. Get Helena to the Mask.

Clear cut. Easy to remember.

Perhaps not as easy to execute, but they were doing the best they could.

An explosion rang out and Helena heard a horn cut through the daylight.

"Now!" Mags shouted, jumping to her feet. "For the Light!"

"For the Queen!" shouted other soldiers.

 _For Valentine_ , Helena's head whispered.

The half of the army behind her jumped up and joined her in her full-tilt run to the walls of the castle. The few guards at the gate had only a moment to react, but they were cut down within a breath.

Helena pulled her sword out of the shadow guard, relieved that their shadow coated blades worked so well. Then she stepped inside the walls and tried to remember how to breathe.

The battle was raging inside the walls. The shadows were mostly concerned with the huge force that was shoving its way through the gates, but Mags' army had their fair share to worry about as well.

They moved in a triangle formation directly for the front doors, only cutting down those who got in their way. It was a whirl of movement and blades and shadow.

Looking for anyone she would know, Helena saw Drag from across the field of battle and watched a sword catch him across the ribs.

"Drag!" she shouted, taking a step out of formation.

A hard hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back into position. "Stay with the group, soldier!" Mags ordered.

"But Drag-"

"I know," Mags said, her voice breaking slightly. "But this isn't about him. It's about all of us. We can't stop for one man."

The warning and reprimand were clear.

Helena nodded, smoothing her face and continuing on her mission.

* * *

Valentine heard the sounds of battle raging from his tower. He paced back and forth, wishing he had a way to know what was happening.

His door wasn't locked, never was, in order to make him feel more helpless, but the two guards outside had been warned against him and his behavior. He would never be able to get out if he didn't have a-

THWACK!

"Ouch!" Valentine shouted, holding the side of his head. "What gives?!"

 _A Very Useful Book_ fluttered around at his feet.

A thud at his door was followed by, "Quiet down, in there."

Valentine's eyes flickered from the _Book_ to the door and back again. He smiled. "You clever little book. I need a hand. Or a spine, as it is."

* * *

"Get down!" Helena screamed.

Laurel and Mags dropped to their stomachs, avoiding the arms of the monstrous shadow-birds that swooped above them. One landed almost on top of her and she stumbled back, her finger fumbling on the trigger of the boom-stick.

She swung it up in the bird's face, her finger on the trigger and-

"...Bob?" she whispered.

The shadows clung to what left of its skin and feathers, filling in the desiccation that had occurred. His eyes were gone, replaced with thick shadows that swirled and focused on her. She focused on him as well, so much so that she missed the Monkeybird's arm swinging out and catching her across the mouth.

Helena fell, knocking Nodd down as she did. Bob's arm slammed down to the ground and Helena rolled, dragging a disoriented Nodd with her. When the next blow came, Nodd was lying across her legs and she couldn't roll them again. Helena held her hand above her head in a futile effort to block the blow.

When the Monkeybird made contact with her skin, Helena nearly screamed.

Instead, the Monkeybird did.

It clutched what was left of its arm, squealing in pain, scrambling away from her.

"Kill it!" Nodd shouted, finally getting off of her.

Helena rolled and shot the boom-stick point blank.

The Monkeybird shuddered and fell to the ground, the shadows slithering off of it. Helena stared at the corpse of her old friend. Long dead before she'd ever gotten to it. She touched the poor thing's shoulder and choked back her tears.

"Helena!" Mags shouted. She looked up and saw the others had gotten to their feet and were fighting away the rest of the Monkeybirds. "We'll hold them off. Take Laurel and Nodd and get inside! Find it!"

Laurel and Nodd were at her shoulders and the three of them ran towards the door. "Got the map?" she asked Laurel.

"Got it. Got your hand?"

Helena wiggled her fingers and forced a laugh.

"Then let's go get a Princess," Nodd finished off.

* * *

Valentine heard the yelling and slamming against his door and smiled grimly. He stepped out into the hallway and jogged down it. His door wouldn't hold them forever, but it would buy him some time. Stopping at the fork in the corridor, he listened carefully for anyone.

"...pull them out of the south hallway. The Queen wants her to go to the throne room."

"Isn't that where the Mask is?"

"Are you questioning the Queen's commands?" the soldier snapped.

"N-No, sir. No."

"Good. And the Mask is no longer there. It's in the south tower. She's set a trap for the Creator in the throne room. Now go to your post."

"Sir, is...is it certain that she'll come?"

"She's already here."

Valentine waited until the footsteps retreated, then hurried out of the hallway and down towards the front doors. He had to warn her.

So intent on his movement, he didn't think to look where he was going.

He collided head first with a soldier, both of them falling back from the other.

"You...you should be in your cell," the soldier stammered.

"Right, about that…" Valentine started. His fist slammed out and caught the soldier under the jaw, knocking him to the ground. "I think I've outgrown that."

"But you're...she's…you're a prisoner," he spat out, moving backwards on the ground away from him.

Valentine stepped on his wrist and pulled the sword out of his fingers. "False."

He spun the sword in his hands, hefting the weapon and getting familiar with the weight once more. With a cold smile, he pointed the sword at the soldier on the ground.

"I'm a juggler."

* * *

Helena ducked under Laurel's sword, catching the other soldier coming at her in the chest and driving him to the ground. They both landed with a huff and Helena slammed the butt of her boom-stick against his head, knocking him unconscious.

"These guys just keep coming, don't they?" Nodd puffed, helping her to her feet.

"Yeah," Helena said, glancing at the map Laurel had handed off to her. "This is going to take forever."

"We're never going to get there," Laurel commented, striking down another and waiting for the next two to catch up.

"There's a passage up ahead. It's a bit roundabout, but it looks like it might pass right by the throne room," Nodd said, glancing at the map over Helena's shoulder.

"Right," Laurel said, raising her chin. "Here's the new plan. We get to that passage, then bottleneck these dead suckers, while Helena heads on alone."

"She can't go alone," Nodd argued.

Glancing at him, Helena commented, "At this rate, none of us are going to go anywhere. It's the best chance, Nodd."

He gritted his teeth and Helena touched his shoulder. "Come on."

They hurried down the hall, making it to the passage before the guards got to them. Helena gave both of them a brief hug, no goodbyes, and said, "See you on the other side of this."

"Good luck," Laurel told her.

Nodd added, "We've got your back."

She nodded and smiled at her friends, then continued on alone.

The halls weren't nearly as crowded over here. Only one soldier since leaving her friends behind and he ran rather than fight her. Picking up the pace, Helena jogged, hoping that maybe by saving some time, she would also save lives.

The battle still raged outside, she caught glimpses of it as she ran through the corridors. There were screams, not all from the shadows. Clenching her jaw, Helena pushed herself even further.

She ran through the castle, barely looking at where she was going. She just followed the map, taking one corner after another as quickly as she could. She spun around a corner and slammed into something that gave. And yelped.

Helena pushed her hair off of her face and looked at what she'd run into. Familiar and foreign black dots stared back at her. She scrambled back from him, though he just remained frozen on the ground.

"Helena?" Valentine whispered, dropping the sword he'd been holding. His hand reached up like he wanted to touch her.

She got to her feet and took off running. This wasn't about one man. This was about all of them. She couldn't wait. She couldn't risk anyone else being hurt because she couldn't handle him. She knew she'd have to deal with Valentine eventually, but she had a mission to accomplish. And she wasn't ready.

"Helena, wait!"

She heard him get to his feet and start after her. "Stop!"

If he didn't stop yelling, she'd never make it to the throne room. She stopped and raised her boom-stick at the chest of her old friend.

He stopped in the hallway, one hand raised but the other holding his sword. "Helena, just stop, wait a second. I-"

"No," she said, turning her back on him and continuing on her way.

"Helena," he hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. "Listen to me, you-"

"No," Helena repeated, shoving him off of her. "I can't listen to you."

"You did before," he said, grabbing her wrist again.

"That was a dream," she snapped, pulling her arm free and aiming the boom-stick at her old friend. "This isn't."

Valentine swore and dodged, Helena pulled the trigger, though it was nowhere near him. Before it could recharge, he was in her face. He grabbed either edge of the boom-stick and shoved her back. Helena didn't let go, even when she felt her back hit the wall. She tried to kick him, but he twisted away. "Listen to me," he ordered.

"No!" She shoved back at him.

He pressed her into the wall. "I don't have time for this. The Mask is in the south tower, not in the throne room. The throne room is a trap. She's got it with her in the tower."

"Why should I trust you?" she demanded.

"Oh, you definitely shouldn't. But I'm telling the truth about this."

"You're a self-"

"Selfish bastard. Yes, you're right," he agreed. He smirked, "Very selfish. Can't help it. A Valentine thing, I suppose." Before she knew what he was doing, he had bent down and pressed his mouth to hers. It wasn't gentle; she felt her teeth click against his and her head bumped against the wall. She was all too aware of the iron boom-stick between them, his chest keeping her pinned against the wall. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that – no, wait, that was his heart pounding, not hers. The feel, the taste, the heat...almost overwhelming. It was over faster than she could react and Valentine backed away from her to the other side of the hallway. Helena covered her mouth.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

"What…?" she said between her fingers. He was apologizing? Valentines don't apologize. Was he sorry for the kiss? For betraying her? For something else?

"South tower," he repeated. "You should hurry. The guards will be here soon."

She could definitely hear the sounds of footsteps in the halls getting closer. More than two. More than one man should have to face alone. She hesitated and Valentine smiled frostily, "Don't worry. I can hold them off. I am a very important man, after all." The statement helped, but the sword in his hands made her feel a little bit better.

She smiled and his vanished, "Go on."

"I'll see you after," she told him. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

Helena took off running, but paused just before she turned the corner. She might die here. The Princess might win and take everything. He might not make it.

"Valentine," she said, her palm resting on the stone.

He had stood and was standing in the middle of the hall like a sentinel, watching her back whether she believed him or not. He glanced over his shoulder at her and Helena felt her breath draw in at the image he made. He waited for her to speak again.

"I missed you," she admitted.

Valentine met her eyes. "And I missed you, Helena-na. Go on, stop the apocalypse or whatever you do best."

She grinned and took off in the direction he told her to go. She trusted the juggler once and he had come through for her in the end. She'd trust him now.


	15. Even though I'd whisper it inside

Helena didn't encounter anyone after running into Valentine. She wasn't sure if it was because he had done as he said and watched out for her, or if this hallway was just empty. She entertained the thought that he was lying to her, but hoped she was wrong.

She entertained a few other thoughts that concerned the juggler, but couldn't dwell on that right now.

Even if her heart was still pounding and her lips still tingling. No. No. Focus.

The tower stairs were in front of her and Helena ascended them as quickly and quietly as she could. She only hoped that she could catch the Princess by surprise.

Helena pulled her notebook out of her bag, flipping to the page she had spent a while considering. It was a long shot, but every little bit helped. Ripping the page out, she approached the door with the page in her left hand and her sword in her right.

Shoving it open, Helena saw –

Nothing.

For a wild moment, Helena considered that Valentine lied. Then that moment passed and Helena continued to place her faith in him.

Stepping into the room, Helena carefully eyed the area. Desks were pushed against the wall, bookshelves were overflowing with the books that the Princess had stolen. The Mask had to be here somewhere…

Looking around, Helena felt a breeze behind her and turned.

The wall behind her looked normal enough, but Helena saw a faint shimmer.

"No use hiding," Helena said, glaring at the girl. "I see you."

Removing the Mask, the Princess's form rippled and became clear.

"Hello, Hel."

"Princess," Helena said in return, closing the door behind her. The Mask glinted at the Princess' waist, which means she would have to get closer. Her fingers clenched around the paper.

"Queen, actually."

"Not my Queen."

The Princess smiled, her dead eyes following Helena's movements. "Glad to see you've recovered. I would so hate for this to happen without an audience."

"What this would that be?" Helena asked, edging closer.

"Your death, my dear."

"I have no plans to die today."

"Nobody ever does," the Princess laughed, her dark dress dragging across the floor as she turned in place.

"I guess one of us is going to be wrong, then."

"Yes. Are you ready, Hel?"

"Not really, but I'll give it a go." Helena threw the paper to the ground and covered her eyes.

A pure, white light exploded out and Helena heard the Princess scream. She lunged forward, reaching for the Mask -

\- and was thrown back against the wall.

Groggy, her head throbbing, Helena lost a few moments. When her eyes opened, the Princess was standing straight, if not completely steady.

"Oh, you stupid little girl," the Princess hissed. "Don't you know? Everything casts a shadow in the sun."

Helena stumbled to her feet, holding onto the wall. She'd known it was a long shot against the Princess, but hadn't hurt to try.

Well, it _had_ hurt.

Helena moved around the room again, keeping her eyes on the Mask as the Princess rotated with her. Helena tried not to look her in the eye - it was too unnerving to see those dead vacuums of light.

"That is mine," Helena said. "I created it. It's mine and I'm taking it back."

"Do you really want to play this game with me, Hel?" the Princess asked, cocking her head.

"Surrender and I'll make sure you're treated fairly."

"Surrender and I'll make sure your death is painful."

Helena laughed, ignoring her headache, "You really suck at this negotiation thing, don't you?"

The Princess laughed as well, an odd echo of her own, "You're right. I do such much better at threatening." She lifted her hand and Helena felt something wrap around her throat. She was lifted onto her toes, until they barely brushed the ground.

Helena transferred her sword from one hand to the other, and touched her neck with her shadowed palm.

The Princess screamed, falling to her knees, and Helena dropped to the floor. She ran forward again, gasping, reaching for the Mask.

She was thrown to the ground again, sliding until she was about level with the Princess. Reeling and desperate, Helena grabbed at the Mask.

The Princess slammed her fist on Helena's shoulder, and she wasn't able to block it. Helena cried out, and slashed with her sword, catching the edge of the Princess' ribs. With the shadows embedded in the metal, it did more damage than Helena could hope for, and yet, not enough. The Princess shrieked and threw herself on top of her.

One of the Princess' hands pinned down Helena's left arm and the other summoned another shadowy dagger. Helena dropped her sword and grabbed the wrist holding the dagger. The Princess hissed and Helena could see the strain it was putting on her to keep hold of the dagger. She squeezed her wrist harder and the Princess' breath came in short pants and her fingers trembled, but still she held onto the dagger.

"You are a helpless, little girl. You think you could defeat me with nothing but a book and pen? You're going to die here, and no one is going to miss-"

"Oi, you stupid shadow of a girl," an Irish voice shouted from the door.

Helena couldn't look over, but she recognized that voice.

The voice moved closer, "Aren't you supposed to be brassed with the one that gave her the information to begin with?"

The Princess shoved Helena away from her, and sent her crashing into the wall once again. Helena got to her feet, gasping as she watched Valentine limp into the room.

His white robe had streaks of red on it and he held his side like he'd been hurt. The Princess turned on him, eyes tightening. "Do explain, Val."

"I was the one who told her what the Mask could do," Valentine said. "I read those books you sent me to get, and then I wrote it all down in a book of me own and sent it book back to the library, where she found it."

"You traitorous piece of-"

He laughed over her, "Oh, and I told her where the Mask was. She was heading towards the Throne Room at first, just like you wanted her to. But I found her and told her the truth. So if you really want to punish someone, I'd punish me. I know you want to."

Forgetting completely about Helena, the Princess marched towards Valentine, who hadn't backed up a step, and grabbed him by the front of his robe. "I should've killed you the first moment you refused me, instead of keeping you as a pet."

"Yeah, you should have," he told her. Valentine threw his fist out, catching the Princess on the jaw as he reached out with other hand as quickly as a snake. He snatched the Mask out of her belt and threw it to Helena. It skidded across the floor and landed right at Helena's feet. She picked it up and stared at the Princess, who realized her mistake a moment too late.

"No," the Princess whispered.

She tried to throw her power over Helena, but the shadows wouldn't stick when she held the MirrorMask. Helena smirked, "Looks like you're out of threats."

The Princess paused, "True, but I just got a lot better material to negotiate with."

She clenched her fist and Valentine swore, grabbing at his wrist. Helena caught a glimpse of black metal as his sleeve fell back. She bit her cheek and faced the Princess, "What? You think using your own man to barter with will make me give up? He's the enemy, too, in case you forgot."

"He saved you. You care about him," the Princess countered, twisting her fist.

Valentine fell to his knees with a cry, curses tripping out through his lips.

"Cared. Past tense. Now he's your toy. Why would I sacrifice this entire world for someone who betrayed me and then got cold feet?" Helena asked.

She couldn't see Valentine's face, hunched over his arm, but she saw his shoulders tighten. He didn't ask her for anything, He didn't once ask her for help. Because he didn't think he would get it.

Or he didn't think he deserved it.

Still, she kept her face impassive, looking into the mirror of herself three years ago.

"You still care, don't lie to me," the Princess snarled.

She couldn't lie well enough on this to get away with it, so she tempered it with the truth, "Of course I care." Valentine looked up and Helena had to avoid his eyes as she finished with, "Just not enough."

The Princess glared and slammed her fist down. The room was quiet enough in that moment that Helena head Valentine's arm snap. She went cold and took an involuntary step forward as Valentine gasped and went limp against the wall. The spider pulled away from his wrist with a tearing, dripping sound and crawled up Valentine's chest. It latched around his throat and began to tighten.

The Princess hadn't even looked, "Now tell me you don't care."

Helena hesitated and the Princess clenched her fist.

Valentine's breathing stopped, the skin beneath his mask starting to change colors as he struggling for air. He coughed, grabbing at the spider with his good hand, but still not calling out for her.

The Princess's knuckles started to go white as Valentine went purple.

"Stop," Helena said. "You're right. Stop, please. I'll give you the Mask."

"Finally," the Princess said, her hand getting loose enough that Valentine was able to take in a shuddering breath. "A reasonable decision."

"Helena, don't-" Valentine rasped.

"Shut up, Val," the Princess said.

"Oh, burn up and die, you damn shadow bitc-"

"I said, shut up!" The Princess shouted, her hand tightening again.

"Let him go, first." Helena said as Valentine choked once more.

"You know, I don't think I will. Give me the Mask." The Princess held out her hand.

"How do I know you won't just kill him once you have it?" Helena said, taking a small step forward.

"You don't. But I will kill him if you waste my time much longer. I can promise you that. Mask. Now." She jerked her arm towards Helena.

Helena wiped her palms on her pants, holding the MirrorMask in both hands as she approached the Princess. _Please,_ she thought, _please let me be strong enough..._

She would hate to vanish into the Princess.

The Princess grabbed the Mask as soon as Helena got within reach, not loosening her grip around Valentine's throat. Helena held on like a dog with a bone, her fingers hurting as the metal cut into her skin.

"Let go," the Princess said.

Helena glanced at Valentine, "You first."

The Princess grabbed the Mask with her other hand and Valentine went limp on the ground.

Helena smirked at the Princess as their hands sealed to the mask. "So, think you're strong enough?"

The Princess frowned, trying to pull her hands away and failing, "Strong enough for what?"

"To not be unmade," Helena stared into the Mask, feeling a pressure start to build in her head.

The Princess whimpered, shutting her eyes, obviously feeling the same.

"What have you done?" the Princess whispered.

"What you forced me to do. Now go back to where you came from," Helena replied.

"No!"

Helena felt her body jerk to the side, slamming into the Princess. It was familiar and completely foreign. The last time, they had been in different world. This time, Helena felt every cell of her body trying to force the Princess away and out. It hurt.

She might have screamed. She really wasn't certain. Memories that were hers and not penetrated her mind in painful bursts.

_"I'm sorry, sweetie. Nan's gone."_

_**"Valentine's don't settle for second best."** _

_"You don't belong here."_

_**"You are quite possibly the very worst daughter. I should have strangled you the day you were born."** _

_"You couldn't handle real life."_

_**"You disgust me."** _

Her eyes opened and Helena saw her reflection in the Mask.

Her eyes were black.

"No!" Helena shouted. She shoved as hard as she could and for a second, she saw brown overpower the black. She just had to remember who she was.

_I'm Helena. Creator. A juggler. A daughter._

Images of her life flashed past her eyes. Drawing the MirrorWorld. Learning how to juggle with her father. Sitting in her parents' trailer having dinner after a show.

_I'm a soldier. A squad member. A City Guard._

Falling over and over again to learn how to hold onto her weapon. Helping Laurel up off the ground, while Nodd watched her back. Standing together in formation, listening to Mags give one of the shortest, yet most inspiring battle speeches she'd ever heard.

_I'm a friend. An enemy. Sometimes both._

Juggling with Valentine in the market before things turned bad. Facing the fake Valentine in the war and wounding him.

Ten minutes ago in the castle. Valentine shoving her against the wall and...

_**"No!"** _

Helena flinched as the Princess screamed inside her head. She closed her eyes focusing on the kiss in the castle whenever the Princess began to pull free.

The scream continued and grew louder and louder. Then suddenly it was gone. It was silent for half a second then-

The Mask exploded out, dropping to the ground and sending Helena flying. She never heard the Princess hit the ground. She slammed against the wall, something stabbing through her back. Helena cried out, hanging from something metal as her skin ripped and tore until she fell to the ground. Dazed, with her back shredded and bleeding, and her arm twinging painfully, Helena propped herself up, seeing no one in the room but herself and-

Valentine.

He still lay on the ground in front of the doorway, not moving. Helena jumped to her feet, feeling them wobble beneath her as she stumbled over to his side. "Valentine!" she shouted, failing to get a response. She fell to her knees at his side, and saw that he wasn't breathing. She grabbed the spider from his throat, making a noise when it dissolved into ooze at her touch. She wiped it away and moved his broken arm away from his chest. "Valentine, wake up!"

She started compressions on his chest, praying that her one emergency class in school wasn't completely gone from her head. She breathed into his mouth, unable to cover his nose because of his mask and prayed she was helping. Her hands were shaking like leaves. If she hadn't hesitated, if she'd played her hand earlier, if she hadn't let the Princess get to him, if she'd told him her plan, if, if, if...

Wet spots appeared on his shirt and Helena didn't bother trying to wipe away her tears. Sure, he messed up. But she'd messed up far worse. She'd shoved the Mirrorworld out of her head because she was acting like a hurt child and she hadn't taken care of it. She was ultimately responsible for every single thing that happened. Including if Valentine...

"Wake up!" she shouted, pounding on his chest. She was scared, alone, and desperate. She needed him to wake up. She needed him. "You stupid, brave, selfish, half-rate excuse for a juggler! You hear me? Wake up!" She shook him, tears making her weak. She rested her head on his still chest, "Please wake up, Valentine."

His chest moved beneath her cheek as he coughed. Helena shot up, staring intently to see the barely there difference behind his masked eyes. He coughed again, looking around and catching sight of her. "Helena..." he reached up to her face, but dropped his hand before he got there. "Is the Princess...?"

She swallowed, not really willing to go into that yet, "Gone. Are you okay?" she asked him, helping him up to a sitting position carefully.

"Me arm hurts. Neck's a bit sore. And why do I feel like someone was dancing on me chest?" he asked, his voice still rough.

Helena smiled weakly, "That was me. Sorry. You weren't...you stopped..." The day's events hit her and Helena sat back, shaking a little. Her friend-turned-enemy-but-in-his-heart-still-friend-most-likely nearly died for her. She had created the evil copy of the Princess, unintentionally, but still. Then she'd taken that evil back in. The Monkeybirds...the guards...the spider. She couldn't handle any more. She sat next to Valentine, shutting her eyes as more tears welled up.

Valentine didn't comment on that. "You going to get on with it?"

"With what?"

He shifted, "You know what."

Helena glanced at him, his eyes unreadable. She did know what. He wanted her to fight him. Arrest him. Something like that. "Yeah, well. I'm really not in any shape to deal with it right now. So, come on and don't try to kill me on the way out, okay?"

Getting to her feet was a chore, and the bloody smear she left on the wall wasn't encouraging. She needed to get help from someone. Quickly.

"We have to get your arm looked at," Helena muttered. She held out her hand and Valentine looked at it for a second. Then he reached up with his good arm and took her wrist. She helped him to his feet, ignoring the twist in her shoulder.

She stumbled, the weakness in her body making her unsteady. One arm steadied her and Helena looked up, finding Valentine's face very close to hers. She was thrown back into the hallway and the kiss that she hadn't expected. She still wasn't sure which Valentine this was; her old friend, the man from her dream, or the one she hadn't really met yet.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly.

"Sure," she said.

He smirked, though it was a little off, "Did you call me a selfish, half-rate excuse for a juggler?"

Against the odds, Helena found herself smiling.


	16. We could be the perfect couple

It took a while, but Helena eventually managed to get Valentine on his feet. He was more than a little unstable, but it helped that she held onto him, her arm wrapping around his waist but taking care not to bump his injuries. He probably wouldn't have felt it even if she had. He felt kind of fuzzy and dazed. Like he was seeing and feeling all of this through a dream. Or a nightmare. The fight with the guards had been something he never wanted to repeat. He'd almost had the first three under control, but when he got swarmed by six of the dead guards, he'd lost the advantage. The only thing that kept him from bolting was the thought that he had to stay. He'd promised. They'd wounded him, but he managed to lock them in the throne room before he ran towards Helena and the Princess.

He glanced down at Helena now, seeing the cuts and bruises starting on her skin. He shook his head, ignoring the twinge in his own throat, as his mind tried to pull up the image he had seen walking in. Helena, pinned beneath the Princess who had been holding a dagger against her throat. He had to press on his injuries to remind himself it wasn't one of his nightmares.

"You okay?" Helena asked.

He'd stopped walking as he tried to clear his head, keeping her from moving forward for fear of hurting him. "I'm fine," he croaked out.

She gave him a tiny smile, "It's okay if you're not. I know I'm not."

She was hurting. And here he was, leaning on her. Valentine tried to pull away, but she held on to him. "Don't be silly."

"Habit," he muttered, and let her pull him back.

Helena sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder as they shuffled forward. Valentine tightened his arm over her shoulders, pretending that he hadn't been an awful man for the past three years, that he hadn't betrayed his closest friend. Pretending that he hadn't kissed his closest, but mostly likely unwilling, friend (but really, pretending he had and she had enjoyed it).

He pretended he didn't know what was waiting for him outside.

He'd made the promise to her mother. He'd fought off the guards. He'd attacked the Princess. He done exactly as he said he'd do.

It was only fair that he got to reap the benefits, if only for a moment. He could be selfish for just a little longer.

"How are you?" he asked, distracting himself. Normal things to talk about.

She laughed quietly and cast him a glance, "You know. Busy fighting a war."

"Before that? Before being here."

She lifted her head (not his goal) and thought about it, "I've been working with the circus, mostly."

"School?"

"I started applying to colleges, but I've missed a lot of the deadlines. Poor time management, me. But it's okay," she said.

He knew what the disappointment looked like on Helena's face. Now he got a perfect sense of what it sounded like. He was not a fan.

"I'm sorry about Nan," he told her, trying to move past it. Probably not the best topic to choose, but he felt he had to say it and-

"Me too. But she was old, and..." Helena paused and stopped walking. "How did you know about that?"

Whoops. "Um, long story."

"Long walk," she countered, staring at him. She starting pulling away from him. No, no. That was the opposite of what he wanted.

He couldn't admit to it. It was a complete invasion of her privacy. She'd hate him. "The Queen told me when-"

"Don't you think you've lied enough?" Helena interrupted him quietly.

Suddenly his actual wounds didn't hurt so much as the violent sharpness in his chest. He stepped back from her and Helena didn't stop him this time.

"I didn't...I couldn't tell you. I had to! I didn't have-" he started. Part of him wanted to deny her, while the other part of him wanted to acknowledge that she was completely right.

"Hey," she said, her face soft. "I know you had to. Just...don't you want to stop now? I won't be mad. Whatever you say. I promise."

He doubted that. But he couldn't rightly lie to her now. He hung his head and let the words spill out. "I had this mirror. A gift or curse from the Princess a few years ago. It showed me your room all the time. There was no way for me to turn it off."

"Why did she do that?" Helena asked.

Not exactly the question he was expecting, but he answered anyway. "Her own personal form of fun, I guess. Seeing people forgetting me."

He kept his eyes focused on the flagstones. Interesting things, flagstones. They always started out so rough, but after just a few years they'd be worn down and smoothed and kept track of where people walked the most. The smoother the floors, the more people that passed by. These flagstones had been here for many years, and yet they weren't very smooth. The flagstones in his room were smooth.

So focused on the stones, he jumped when Helena appeared in his line of sight, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing her face into his chest. She mumbled something that he missed.

Valentine put his good arm back around her, feeling her breath through his shirt. "What was that?"

"I never forgot you," Helena repeated louder. "I'm sorry."

This maskless girl would never stop surprising him. He admits to spying on her for the past two years and she's apologizing. Nonsense.

"Don't apologize," he told her.

"Fine, but you don't have to feel bad," she told him. "I'm glad you were there."

Helena exhaled and let go of him, beginning their walk again. Valentine tried to keep quiet, but he couldn't help it.

"Why?"

"Hm?"

Valentine swallowed, "Why were you glad?"

"I think I knew someone was watching out for me. Or I hoped someone was. Otherwise, I was just talking to an empty mirror." Helena shrugged, "I always imagined I was talking to you."

Valentine stared at his feet. He'd hoped she'd been searching for him whenever she looked into the mirror. But to hear it for sure... Maybe he wasn't completely crazy. Maybe things weren't completely hopeless.

He saved his breath as they maneuvered the stairs, finding that the incline made his wounds pull irritatingly. But when they reached the bottom, Valentine found his breath and nerve.

"Helena," he said, barely recognizing the serious and hopeful tone in his voice. Helena stopped, expectantly waiting with a smile, "I wanted to tell you that-"

"Look out, Helena!"

"Stay where you are, traitor!"

Valentine turned to see two, blue-haired guards bearing down on them. He bit his tongue, having hoped for a little more time before this. He separated from Helena, stepping forward. Once again, he locked that small part of himself away. He'd been a fool for opening it up in the first place. With a half-hearted smile and a cool glare he raised his good arm, "I'm not going anywhere. No need to shout. I surrender."

"Mags, Drag," Helena said, "wait, it's not what you think! He helped me, he's not-"

"Stop, Helena. They're right," he told her as the guards reached them.

Mags, or Drag, he wasn't sure who was who, grabbed his wrists and knotted a cord around them. His broken arm protested and Valentine hissed, but didn't fight them.

"You don't need that," Helena argued. "You're hurting him! He saved me, he-"

The male guard spoke, "I'm sorry, Helena. But he's a criminal. He surrendered, but he's still going on trial for his crimes."

"But-"

"Oh come on, Creator," Valentine said coldly, "it's not like you didn't know this was coming."

Helena glanced at him and he felt some kind of victory at the concern all over her face. And a faint twist from the hurt that he elicited.

"I'm an awful, awful man, remember?" he added.

She shook her head, "This isn't right."

"It's the law," Mags said, confused over Helena's expression. "He has to be tried and if he's found guilty, he'll-"

"Mags," the other one, Drag, cut her off. Valentine was surprised to notice concern on the gruff guard's face, but he realized it wasn't directed at him. It was directed at Helena.

"He'll what?" Helena asked, looking at each of them. When no one answered, she repeated her question louder, "He'll what?"

Valentine found it astonishing that a girl who could fight a war and argue with a Princess and create worlds could be so innocent about some things. He didn't want to ruin that for her, but like she said, he was done lying. "I'll hang."

Her expression broke, sending emotions rippling like aftershocks over her face. Valentine reeled and found himself wanting to reassure her, but also glad that it was already beginning.

It'd be hard to keep his promise to keep her away from the bad guys while he was still around.

"It'll be okay," Mags told her.

"Don't lie," Helena snapped.

Mags looked shocked, "I-"

Ignoring her completely, Helena turned to Valentine, "I'll fix this."

He didn't doubt her. But he knew there was nothing to be fixed. "I'm a criminal. It's the law."

"Well then, I'll talk to the person who-" she started.

Valentine let his newer self do the talking for him. The one who could out-snark the Princess and leave her reeling. It'd be easier.

"I don't need your help, Creator," Valentine shot at her. "And I don't need any special favors."

Helena's eyes widened, then narrowed at him. "Too damn bad, juggler."

"Keep your nose out of my business."

"You made it my business when you decided to help!" she snapped at him.

His lips twisted up, even as that quieter part of him wanted to shut his stupid mouth. "I don't need you, your help, or your little favors. I'm not your kept juggler, so piss off."

Helena's mouth fell open as she stared at him, bright spots of anger starting in her cheeks.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking me away about now?" Valentine asked the guards.

Mags glanced at Drag, the shock on their faces obvious.

"Well, let's get on with it, then!" he snapped.

Helena tried one last time. More than he'd expected, honestly. She put her hand on his good arm, "Valentine, please, don't push me awa-"

"Hands off, Creator. Don't want to be seen with the enemy, do you?" he asked her quietly. Pulling his arm away, he led the way out of the castle, leaving Mags and Drag to hurry after him.

As he stepped out into the light, Valentine saw the Army of Light cleaning up from the battle. Monkeybirds, dead soldiers, and (formerly) live soldiers of both sides littered the ground. When people started to catch sight of him, he noticed that they stopped working and stared at him.

Some of them only stared. Some of them glared. Most of them talked.

And had the Creator come out with her hand on his shoulder, they would have talked even more.

He could deal with dirty looks. He could deal with the comments. He could deal with it all and it would still be a picnic compared with the past three years.

He was a Valentine.

Another soldier, one he didn't recognize, ran into the castle. He barely paid any attention to it until he immediately came back out, "Medics! Majesty! We need you!"

"What is it, Nodd?" Mags asked, letting Drag continue marching Valentine on his way.

"It's Helena, she's breathing, but I can't wake her up! Medics!" Nodd shouted again, hurrying back inside the castle.

Valetine's heart clenched, but he didn't look back. She was breathing, she'd be fine. He had to pretend. He had to protect her from everything. Especially him.

"Let's go," Drag said quietly.

Valentine didn't argue, letting himself be pulled towards some other imprisonment. He didn't fight. He didn't look back.

He'd promised.


	17. Well, we could

_Helena lifted her arms above her head, "And, Val? Just to prove how serious I really am…"_

_Valentine opened his eyes, lifting his head slightly to look at her. He glanced at the Monkeybirds covered in inky shadows around them and Helena saw his hands shake._

" _No. Plea-"_

_She threw her hands down and the Monkeybirds went with them. He took a half step forwards, but his fists clenched and he stopped, glaring at her in a way that she never hoped to see again. She stared at him as the Monkeybirds were wiped out._

_Helena brushed off her hands when it finally went silent. "Just so you know, there are a lot more people in the City of Light. I'm asking for one. You bring me one, and I'll spare the rest."_

" _For now." Valentine's voice was short and curt._

_She smirked, enjoying getting under his skin. He tried so hard to appear uncaring, but he truly didn't want to see other people hurt. It was thrilling to see him unbalanced. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Will you get me Mrs. Bagwell?"_

" _Yes," he bit out._

" _Will you refuse me again?"_

_He met her gaze, nearly as hard and cold as Helena figured hers was. "No."_

" _Good. Now get me what I want."_

_Valentine turned on his heel, never looking left or right. Helena watched him go and smiled. She enjoyed twisting him. He had started out so good and noble, if a bit misguided. Now he was turning as black as her._

_Helena walked over to the edge of the tower, smiling. It was only a matter of time before he didn't have another option other than her. She looked down at her handiwork, pride seeping through her. She saw the mangled bodies and started to laugh-_

Helena woke up with a muffled scream, her clothes soaked. She shot out of bed, just in time to make it to the bathroom attached to her room. After vomiting whatever she had eaten the night before, she felt a burning pain down her back.

It'd been six days since the Battle for the Mask. They were still hunting down a few stragglers, but most of the Army of the Light was settling into the Castle of Shadows, cleaning it out and recovering. Helena had spent the first three days recovering from the perpetual migraines and significant blood loss. Her back had been sewn up, along with her other numerous cuts and scrapes.

But the worst of all were the nightmares.

They'd started the night after the Battle. She'd thought that they were just something she had created, but six nights of them were too much.

Helena stumbled out of her room and down the hall where Mags and Drag stood guard outside the Queen's room.

"Helena," Mags stepped up, "are you all right?"

"I need...I need to see the Queen. Please," she said quietly, knowing that her hands were shaking.

Drag knocked on the door. "Majesty?"

The quick answer from inside got rid of the tiny guilt Helena housed that she was waking her monarch at such an early hour.

Helena slipped through the door, shutting it behind her when Mags and Drag might have followed.

The Queen and Prime Minister sat at the Princess' old desk, going through her papers and files.

"It's early, Helena," the Queen said quietly. "You should be resting."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Helena answered, nodding at the Prime Minister as he smiled at her. "I've been having dreams."

"What kinds of dreams?" she asked, putting down her pen.

Helena sagged into a chair, prompting the Prime Minister to hop up and touch her shoulder, "My dear, are you all right?"

"I don't know." Helena's voice shook.

"I'll get you some water," he said, squeezing her shoulder gently before leaving the room.

"Talk to me," the Queen pressed.

"Every night since the Battle, I've had nightmares," Helena started.

"Not unusual for what you've been through."

"Except they're not my memories. Not my thoughts," she argued. "I think...I think when I absorbed the Princess, that something might have been leftover. I've been dreaming about her life. Her words and actions. What she did…" Helena trailed off.

The Queen stared at her for a moment, then shuffled through some papers. "I have the medical records from after the Battle." She pulled out a file and flipped through the papers to find Helena's. "I have here that despite your injuries, you were all right. The shadow remains on your palm, but hasn't moved from when you first got it. Your eyes are how they should be. You haven't developed any other new powers." She smiled. "I think it's safe to say that you are all right. However, you may be suffering from some side effects of defeating the Princess. As we don't have any records of this sort of thing, we don't know if they're normal or not. That being said, I know the nightmares must be awful, but as far as we know, that's all they are. Just nightmares."

Helena nodded slowly. "I guess nightmares aren't the worst thing that could happen." She didn't feel completely at ease with her new nighttime activities, but she felt a bit better. Helena used the time to ask what she had been concerned about just as long. "How is he?"

The Queen didn't ask who she was talking about. "He's stable. His injuries from the Battle were serious, but he's recovering from those."

The way she said it made Helena nervous. "What else would he be recovering from?"

"Why haven't you gone to ask him for yourself?" the Queen countered.

Helena's mouth snapped shut at the unexpected question, but she continued. "I have gone to see him. He's refused to see me. Every time I go, they tell me he's sleeping or resting or busy...but I know he's not. He doesn't want to see me," Helena assumed, avoiding the Queen's eyes. "Not that I blame him."

"Helena, what happened to him wasn't-"

"What happened?" she interrupted quietly.

With a small sigh, the Queen handed over another piece of paper from the file she had pulled Helena's medical records. "You can look for yourself."

She took the page and skimmed it over. Some of it, she didn't quite understand, but she caught the important words, _insomnia, paranoia, night terrors, fear of the dark, half-healed breaks and lesions, fresh breaks over completely healed ones, malnutrition, exhaustion, internal damage, brain damage (pre-existing condition?), anxiety, panic attacks, distrust of authority…_ the list went on.

Helena handed it back, trying to reign in her anger. The tiny part of her that had killed those who killed Gallant wished she hadn't gotten rid of the Princess so quickly.

"Did you see any evidence of this when you saw him at the Pool of Dreams?" the Queen questioned her.

Helena recalled the way Valentine had hunched over his broken ribs and his swollen face. "Yes."

"Do you know what he might have done to prompt that?"

"He said he pissed her off." Helena recalled her one question that he had answered truthfully. "He would always pretend that he was fine. That it wasn't that bad. But it was."

The Queen noted that down. "Helena, the trial is today."

She was well aware of that and just nodded.

"I need you to trust that I do not want him to hang if he is innocent."

"But you don't completely believe that he's innocent, do you?" Helena asked.

"I don't know. But I want to know the truth." The Queen waited to see Helena's nod before continuing. "I'm just afraid that he won't tell it."

"He will," Helena said, wanting to believe it herself. "He has to."

"Perhaps a visit from you today wouldn't go amiss," she suggested.

Helena wasn't looking forward to it as much as she thought she would. "Are you certain that's wise?"

"Yes. Despite the other things scheduled today, I do believe that it will be helpful and necessary," the Queen said.

Helena wasn't so certain.

Still, an hour, a bath, and new bandages later, she walked towards Valentine's room, and faced the guard at the end of his hallway.

"I'm here to see him," she said quietly.

"He's sleeping."

Helena narrowed her eyes and the guard, someone she hadn't met before, shifted uncomfortably. "I'm going to see him anyway. Open the door."

He didn't hesitate again.

Valentine wasn't sleeping; he was sitting on his bed, juggling one handed. His cast kept him from lots of things, but apparently he refused to let it keep him from juggling. He looked up and paused when he saw her, catching the spheres and putting them on the bed.

"Not sleeping?" Helena asked.

"No."

"He told me you were."

"That's because I asked him to."

The blatant honesty about the lie made her blink. "Why?"

He shrugged, and Helena stepped further into the room, leaning on the wall across from him.

He sat back, mimicking her as she crossed her arms. He didn't seem inclined to talk, so Helena took a moment to look over him.

In her dreams, he looked exactly as she remembered him - spiked hair, clean robe, frantic if efficient movements. This man - this stranger - wasn't her Valentine.

His hair was longer, pushed back from the edge of his mask and falling almost to his collar. His robe was different, but Helena figured that was her fault. She had redrawn him and apparently changed his clothes. She hadn't added the scars, though. Not the nicks on his mask or the ones that ran across his hands. She hadn't added the lean muscle that ran all along his frame. She hadn't added the arrogance, or the lies, or the disinterest that showed even through his mask.

"Did you need something?" he asked her.

Helena shook her head, at a loss for what to do. She wanted the Valentine she'd spoken to in her dreams. She wanted to walk away from this stranger wearing a new version of her best friend's face, but she couldn't. She was rooted to the spot because the man she'd known in her dreams came from this one, and it was her fault they didn't match. If he was really all that different, he wouldn't have said and done what he did. There was still something going on here and she would figure out what it was if it killed her in the process. But this Valentine wanted to put a fight.

Fine. She'd become quite the fighter herself.

"How are you doing?" she asked him, refusing to balk as he didn't show any interest in speaking or even looking at her.

"Broken arm. Damaged throat. Minor cuts and bruises. Broken ribs. That last one was thanks to you."

She nodded. The Queen's reports had listed all of that and more. The abuse, the exhaustion, the night terrors. Helena kept all this in mind as she stared at him.

"Anything else, Creator? I'm actually quite the busy man," he commented.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Isn't that what we're doing now?"

She shook her head. "You're reciting facts and trying to kick me out. Hardly a conversation."

"Yeah, well. Conversations are between friends."

Ouch. "So you saved my life because we're not friends?" She didn't bring up the kiss. Neither one of them was in a place to talk about that yet.

He shrugged again. She hated that shrug. "Between you and her, I think you were my better shot."

She didn't like being compared with the Princess. But she was here for a reason. She had to focus. "Your trial is today."

"Here to say goodbye?" he asked coolly.

"Don't say that," Helena murmured.

He started juggling again, "Get used to the truth, little girl. I'm a criminal. Treasoner. Murderer. I don't get another chance."

"You're not, I know you," Helena said, "and-"

"You don't know me," he cut in harshly. "I'm everything they say I am and more. And if you weren't so hopelessly naive, you'd be well aware of it yourself."

"I am not naive," she snapped at him.

He unfolded from the bed, catching the juggling balls and putting them down once more. "Did I upset the poor little Creator?"

"Knock it off," she ordered.

"Or what? You'll arrest me?" he smirked, not taking a single step towards her but making her feel like he was cornering her nonetheless.

"I wanted to be certain that you understood the details of your trial," Helena tried to refocus the conversation. He was deliberately baiting her. And it was working.

"I'll be tried. Pretty clear."

"Not just you," Helena said, watching his face and hoping she was playing this correctly. "All the living soldiers of the Army of Shadow will also be tried, along with the other war criminals. Your confession will be matched against theirs to confirm their guilt or innocence."

His expression went carefully blank, "I didn't know there were other prisoners."

"Guess I'm not the only hopelessly naive person, am I?" Helena shot back at him. Her headache was coming back with a vengeance.

He laughed, but it wasn't the right sound. It wasn't the sound of her friend. This was a defensive sound, for all that he tried to mask it. How often in the past few years had he had to make that sound? Why did he still feel the need to make it now?

She had to leave before he did something else to push her over the edge. "I wanted to wish you good luck at your trial. And I'm glad you're feeling better."

Valentine didn't have an answer for that and Helena slipped out before he could.

However, the twisting in her gut proved that the trial wouldn't go as well as she hoped.

* * *

The trial wasn't going well.

Three hours later and well into his trial, Valentine sat on the stand, with his arrogant smirk in place. He had answered all of the Librarian's questions and watched as the Council's faces got more and more resigned.

"So," the Librarian said, rubbing his forehead, "let me recap what you said. You stole books from my Library, you helped the Princess infiltrate the City of Light, you kidnapped Mrs. Bagwell, you gave the MirrorMask to the Princess, you caused the deaths of the Monkeybirds, you're responsible for the death of Deci, you sent away our Creator, you attempted to kill her twice, and you donned the armor of a Shadow Guard, along other miscellaneous and nefarious deeds, too many to recall in the past three years."

"That about sums it up," Valentine said.

He didn't look up to see anyone's reaction sitting above him in the stands. He knew where this was going.

"And you have no guilt over it? No sorrow for the things that you did? Nothing at all?" the Librarian asked. He sounded desperate.

As if he didn't want to convict him.

Too bad.

"I'm not sorry for the choices I made."

In the resounding silence from his statement, he heard the voice he'd prayed wouldn't get involved. "Your Majesty...may I ask him a few questions?"

Valentine watched the Queen stare at Helena carefully for a minute, then, "Do you have an objection, Judge?"

He clearly wasn't going to argue against the Queen and the Creator. "Not at all."

The Queen waved her hand and Helena walked down the stairs until she was level with Valentine's stand.

She didn't speak to the crowd. Just to him. "So you aren't sorry, because those were the best decisions you could have made? You might have wished that you hadn't had to make it at all, but the ones you chose are the ones you've accepted?" Helena asked.

Valentine stared at her, his mouth a thin line. Damn it. She knew. How could she know?

She smiled, "Might I remind you, you swore under oath to answer all questions truthfully." Helena gestured to the orb that was attached to his podium, which glowed red with all untruths.

Valentine's good hand clenched. "You are correct."

"What were your choices?" Helena asked.

The tension went up.

"For what matter in particular?" he asked her, resigned to telling the truth, but refusing to make it easy on her.

"Sending me away. What would have happened if you hadn't gotten me to return home and stay there? What would have happened if you hadn't convinced me to leave and never come back?"

He thought quickly. He couldn't lie, but he couldn't tell the whole truth. He'd promised. This was the one way to ensure his promise and now she was trying to take it away from him.

Valentine watched Helena's eyes get narrower as he remained silent. He had to make it believable, though. He had to keep her from asking more questions. He sighed, letting his shoulders sag slightly. "The Princess had gotten her metal spider around me. Had you returned home with an intention of coming back here, she would have killed me." The murmurs sounded more understanding, but not at all sympathetic.

"What were your exact terms for forcing me to leave and never come back?" Helena pressed.

"I had to get you to leave. Convince you that you weren't wanted. I had to give her the Mask." He had to tread carefully.

"And was your life the only thing at stake?"

He stayed silent, the only movement was his face, turning to watch her as she paced.

"Answer the question," the Librarian ordered quietly.

"No," he stated.

Helena didn't respond. She just stared at him with those too-clever eyes and that endlessly patient face.

How did she know to ask these things?

She was going to stand there until he finally gave in. Valentine swallowed, thinking about the other people to be tried. If he lied, he might ruin their chances at forgiveness.

"Dammit," he whispered under his breath. "No. The Princess had hidden three of her metal beasties in your room when she was there. Had I not convinced you not to come back, she would have killed you."

The revelation was met with shocked gasps. Helena didn't react, but her eyes lit up with some kind of victory.

"The other choices that you made. What were the details of those decisions?" Helena asked him.

Valentine gave up then. He listed off the hard truth of the matter in a detached voice. He was given a choice between Mrs. Bagwell and the entire City of Light. His refusal had resulted in the deaths of the Monkeybirds. He had donned the armor to distract the Princess, saving Helena's life in the process. The metal spider had been the thing to kill Deci, not him. The Valentines who had attacked her had been the copies made by the MirrorMask.

"Were you hurt by her?" Helena asked as he finished summing up his decisions. The Council was taking pages after pages of notes, all of their faces far more sympathetic.

Valentine glared at her then, shaking his head slightly. _Don't push me,_ he thought. _Don't make me say it._

Her face was already sad, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. She knew.

"Did she hurt you?" she asked again.

The admission fell into a silent room. "Yes." He should have been stronger.

But he wasn't.

"Did she lie to you?"

"Yes." He should have seen through those faster.

But he hadn't.

"Had you been able to escape without putting anyone in danger and without giving the Princess an opportunity to make more plans without inside help, would you have done it?"

"Yes." He should have made that opportunity.

But he didn't.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out _A Really Useful Book_. "Do you recognize this?"

He just wanted this to stop. He'd had the Council in the palm of his hand before she arrived. Now she was turning things upside-down. "Yes."

"Does this sound familiar? ' _MirrorMask: Can copy things and people. Can let you imitate people. Can open gates between worlds. Can allow travel between worlds without replacing the alternate world's person. Can ward off Shadow powers'._ "

"Yes." _Stop, stop, stop._

"How so?"

"I wrote it." _Too little. Too late. Too useless._

"And how did you know about this, when not even the Queen nor I was aware?" Helena asked.

"I read it."

"Where?"

"In the books she had me steal. I started reading them and tried to figure out what she was doing." _After being pushed to because I was too big of a coward on my own._

"Why?"

"To stop her. Or to get the information to someone who could."

"The _Book_ came to me."

He shrugged, staring at his clenched fist. "I didn't know."

"Sure," someone scoffed in the crowd. Valentine's head lifted slightly. They weren't all convinced.

"When did you send the _Book_ back to the Library?" Helena asked slowly, ignoring the comment.

"I sent it out..." he trailed off, the dates coming together, glancing at her.

"You sent it out...?" She pressed, meeting his eyes.

How did she know?!

His hands were clenched, even the one in a cast, sending delightful pinpricks of pain up his arm. "A few days after the Princess told me you had been killed."

"So, while the Princess was thinking that her greatest opponent had been gotten rid of," she said with a condescending smile towards herself, "you were still trying to help the City of Light. Why?"

"Because the Princess was a horrible person," he exclaimed in a huff, his anger getting the best of him.

"And remind me, Valentine. When the Princess was doing her very best to kill me in her tower, who burst in, distracted her, threw the MirrorMask to me, and nearly got himself killed by her in the process?" she asked him, her voice louder this time.

He glared at her, his salvation and undoing in the same, frustrating package. "Me."

"In fact, you stopped breathing because of her spider. Your heart stopped beating. Do you remember that?" Helena asked him.

"No, I don't."

"I was there and restarted your heart. So I remember it." Helena stared at him for a minute and then shook her head, "So, correct me if I'm wrong, Valentine, but you chose kidnapping one woman to save hundreds, you gathered up the information that could stop the Princess and managed to get it to someone who could use it against her, and you died making sure that the Princess didn't win. Did I miss anything?"

"No, but-" he tried.

"So really, if it wasn't for you, we'd all be serving the Princess now."

 _Shut up, shut up!_ "That's not-"

"Except for those of us she had killed, which I'm sure would have included myself, the Queen, the Prime Minister, and others. So you actually saved-"

"Stop!" he shouted, on his feet. Helena did, staring at him as the murmurs got louder at his outburst. "Stop. I didn't save anyone. Everyone who got hurt or killed or vanished was my fault. I'm responsible. Not being as bad as the Princess does not make me a good person."

They had to know.

"It doesn't make you a bad one, either." Helena told him quietly. She turned to the Council, "I'm done, Your Majesty."

"If that's so, I believe the Council had enough information to make a ruling for Mr. Valentine. Thank you for your testimony and-"

"If you're smart," Valentine interrupted the Queen, earning a few dark looks, "you'll still convict me. Her way of presenting it is nice," he jerked his head towards Helena, but kept his eyes on the Queen, "but the truth is that I'm responsible for more deaths than I can count. There had to have been another way to do things that I just missed. I'm an awful man, and I don't deserve to be forgiven."

He knew the stone on the podium didn't so much as flicker red.

The Queen looked down at him, "Your comments will be taken into consideration, Mr. Valentine. You're excused."

He stood, ignoring Helena as she stood by the podium, obviously trying to catch his eyes. The guards took his arms and helped him down the steps before heading towards the door.

"Next up, we have…" the Queen hesitated, then sighed quietly, "Miss Helena Campbell."

What?

Valentine twisted slightly to see Helena walking calmly up the steps to sit in the defendant's chair. What would she be on trial for? She hadn't done anything wrong!

"Charges include negligence, consorting with the enemy, aiding and…" the Queen's voice was cut off as the doors shut behind Valentine.

_Consorting with the enemy._

Dammit.

He'd broken his promise before he'd even made it. He'd gotten her into trouble just by being near.

Valentine stared at the floor. He hoped they'd convict him and help fix his mistakes.


	18. But only in my mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles belong to "If I Apologised" by Ballamy, Gaiman, and McKean. I don't own MirrorMask.

"Are you sure?" Helena asked quietly, staring at her clasped hands.

The council, including the Queen, the Prime Minister, the Judge, the Librarian, and Drag, sat at their benches, though the room was empty of the crowd. Helena was the only one still left on the floor, though she wasn't in the podium any longer. She tried to avoid looking at it, recalling how it felt to list out all of her mistakes for the whole world - minus one - to listen to.

"Yes," the Prime Minister answered, his frown clear even through his mask.

Helena wasn't so convinced. "But-"

"Look, girl," the Judge cut in, his voice assured and allowing no argument, "you wanted to be put on trial. You wanted us to judge you and we have. You wouldn't have questioned us so much if we had decided the other way."

She nodded a little. "I know."

"Then trust us with this," he announced, standing up and starting for the door. "Though," he added, hesitating with his papers in his hands, "perhaps you should take some time for self-reflection to discover why a sentence of not guilty fills you with such discomfort."

He left, leaving Helena reeling slightly with his statement.

The others started to follow him out of the room, leaving just the Queen and Drag behind. They came down the stairs, joining Helena on the floor.

"But I did consort with the enemy," Helena commented quietly as they got closer.

"You spoke with Valentine," Drag pointed out, leaning on the chair next to her. "I'm not certain he could be labeled the enemy."

"I never wanted you to be tried in the first place," the Queen added in. "The Princess caused this war. The deaths are on her hands."

"But I gave her the tools and opportunity," Helena admitted for the second time today. "If I hadn't been so selfish, I could have stopped this before it ever began."

"Yeah, you only risked your life to stop her now. That's not worth anything," Drag drawled.

"I'm being serious," Helena said, glancing at him.

"So am I," Drag said. "Judge has the right of it. You feel guilty, but not for what happened in the Battle. Maybe you should figure it out in the next few weeks."

"And about that," Helena said, looking at the Queen and avoiding Drag's uncomfortable observation, "are you certain?"

"Are you questioning me?" the Queen asked with a faint smile.

"No. Well...a little, yeah."

"I think it'll be good for you. It gives you something to do while keeping you out of the limelight for a while. It'll give you some time to recover and think. I believe it will do a world of good," she answered, sounding certain.

Helena didn't argue again, but nodded. "I won't disappoint you."

"You never have." The Queen looked towards the door, "Would you like to inform Valentine of the ruling?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Helena commented, recalling the anger in Valentine's eyes while she questioned him, pulling out the information he hadn't wanted to release.

The Queen glanced back at her, "You two are very strong. You'll be alright."

Helena forced a smile. "I'd best go and help the others pack up."

The Queen nodded and Helena escaped into the hallway, hurrying to her room.

* * *

The old Valentine would have paced in his cell anxiously, wondering not only about his sentence, but Helena's as well. But he would have been laughed at, caught unaware and unprepared.

Instead, Valentine reclined against the wall, throwing one of his juggling balls against the opposite wall and catching it as it flew back.

Bounce, catch.

Bounce, catch.

Bounce, catch.

Calm, collected, unruffled.

When the door to his room opened, Valentine didn't so much as flinch. "Back again, Creator?"

"Not quite."

Valentine caught his ball, turning to see the Queen of Light walk into his room and settle herself onto the bed.

He had to admit, despite not looking as though it had, he was slightly ruffled. He rolled the ball between his hands, giving him an excuse to look away from her piercing eyes. "Hello," he said.

"I quite enjoyed your show, earlier," she said, straightening her dress. "I have to say, you had us all quite convinced until Helena stood up."

He didn't respond.

"It's admirable, what you're trying to do," the Queen said, still staring at her dress instead of him.

Valentine swallowed, then made himself smirk, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Just because there's no stone, that doesn't mean I don't know when you're lying, my dear juggler."

He met her eyes, without flinching this time. She didn't glare or accuse or force him to say anything, she just looked at him.

"The Council reached a decision."

"Figured. So when do I take that shot drop and sudden stop?" he smiled callously. He wouldn't ask about other decisions like those of the soldiers' or Creator's fate.

"You don't."

He took a few breaths, keeping the calm.

She continued, those eyes still on him. "You were judged innocent, Valentine. Not guilty of any charges."

"I'm not innocent."

She smiled, looking away from him. Valentine found that he could breathe a little deeper without those eyes on him. "How interesting."

"What?"

"Such a strong abhorrence to innocence today, is all," she said vaguely. "However, due to the nature of your activities, I'm asking you to complete a difficult task for me. To help the country recover from the Battle. To give the Shadow soldiers a chance to recover. To give everyone a moment to breathe."

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"You would be charged with the responsibility of recovering and rehabilitating the Shadow Kingdom. That includes not only the castle and the surrounding areas, but the inhabitants, those who were deemed innocent in their trials, and the others assigned to work here. You'll work directly with the regent, who'll be the acting monarch of the kingdom until I deem it's been sufficiently recuperated."

"If I refuse?"

The Queen looked startled, "I'll be disappointed?"

Valentine's surprised frown wasn't completely smothered.

"You'll find no threats here, Valentine," the Queen said gently. "No abuse. No torture or pain. Should you accept, I will hold you to your word until it's been completed. However, you can also choose not to do this, and you'll be free to rejoin society or take to your Tower and fly off into the distance," she said. "It's up to you."

He was ready to decline.

"Of course," she added, "if you feel the remorse I know you do, then I'm almost certain you'll take this responsibility. Despite your claims to the contrary, you're not an awful man. You're an incredible one."

"I'm not," he responded, wishing he could choke the words down, but finding they slipped out anyway.

"You may not see it right now, but I do. And I'm not the only one," she said with a smile. The subject changed quickly. "Your decision?"

Valentine stared at the colored sphere in his hands. He should run. He should run and never come back. That's what the awful man would do. The Princess' Val. He would run away from it all and them all and _her_ , and never look back. He wouldn't care that this damage had been his doing and the soldiers suffered because of what he'd done and what he'd failed to do. He wouldn't have any remorse.

He wished he could be that awful man.

"I'll do it," he agreed quietly.

"I'm glad to hear it. The rest of us will be leaving tomorrow, back to the City of Light to begin rebuilding there," she said, standing. "You'll meet the others tomorrow morning."

Valentine nodded, still staring at his hands.

He nearly jumped when the Queen put her hand on his shoulder, "Should you need anything, Valentine, anything at all, please don't hesitate to contact me."

"I won't need anything."

"I owe you my life, juggler," she said with a smile. "Everyone does. Soon that'll sink in."

He forced a smiled as she let go of him. "People tend to hold grudges against the man who ruined their lives."

"I meant it'll sink in for you."

She left the room, leaving the door open and calling the guards away.

Valentine watched them leave, walking down the hallway after the Queen and vanishing around the corner.

He waited.

And waited.

And...they didn't come back.

Valentine got to his feet, leaving his juggling balls on his bed and walked towards the open door. He stopped just before the jamb, glancing up and down the hallway.

No one was there.

No one was watching.

No one was waiting for him to misstep.

No one was keeping him where he didn't want to stay.

Valentine stepped over the threshold.

No one stopped him.

He let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in and didn't bother to stem the smile that spread across his face.

 _Finally_.

* * *

Helena waved as the Tower left with the last carriage of goods finally from the Shadow Kingdom's courtyard. It had been an enormous parade as the Queen left the kingdom but, three hours later, the only people left were those who were to stay to help fix up the Land of Shadows.

And Helena.

The new regent of the Shadow Kingdom.

She still didn't like that title. Or the idea. But everyone else seemed to be in favor of it.

Her fingers clenching and unclenching in her pockets, Helena hid the nerves that had been building up since yesterday afternoon, when the Queen had decided this for her. About thirty people in all stayed behind.

Helena tried not to dwell on the fact that the number was so low because that's all that survived of the Shadow Army once the re-animated soldiers collapsed.

"Ready, regent?" Mags asked from her side.

"Stop calling me that," Helena ordered for the fiftieth time, still happy that the small soldier had been among the ones who'd chosen to stay.

"But you are," Laurel pointed out.

Nodd piped in, "Can't deny it."

Helena rolled her eyes at her friends, then sighed. "Can't put it off any longer. Let's meet our new best friends and get the basics out of the way."

"Still not loving this idea," Nodd muttered, falling into place behind her.

"You could've left," Laurel said from Helena's other side.

Helena let the two of them bicker and spoke quietly to Mags. "I'm not sure how to handle this."

"Just be yourself. And don't take any shit from anyone."

Helena chuckled, finding the advice unhelpful, but her friends brought her some comfort.

"Where are we meeting them? Throne room?" Nodd asked.

Helena shook her head, "No, I'm not a queen. Mags told them to gather in the kitchen."

It was on the ground floor, down the hall from the huge dining room. Helena wanted to avoid that, too. So, kitchen it was.

She pushed the door open, noting that the noise immediately stopped as she walked in. She tried not to let that affect her, standing near the front of the room. Noting that Mags, Laurel, and Nodd sat with the few others from their squad who chose to stay rather than any of the Shadow soldiers, Helena pulled her hair back. At least she didn't have to worry about getting their attention - every eye was fixed on her.

Helena had a brief idea of making an inspiring speech that would make all of them thrilled to help her. That was quickly squashed as she looked over the tired, stubborn, angry, guilty faces that lined the tables. These weren't warriors looking for a battle speech. These were people looking for forgiveness.

Helena started quietly, "Most of us are here because we aren't quite ready to start our lives out there. We might feel guilty about what we've done or didn't do. Or a little lost and a little nervous about what's waiting out there. But we're all here because we want to change that. We want to change ourselves. So from this point forward, there won't be any talk of Shadows versus Light. We aren't soldiers anymore, we're just people."

No one was yelling at her yet, so she kept going. "Everyone is going to pull their weight. That means everyone gets kitchen duty. Everyone gets laundry duty. Everyone helps. Everyone works. That being said, if you prefer something over another, let me know and I'll do my best to work it out. In fact, any questions or concerns can be addressed to myself or Mags over there."

Mags smiled encouragingly at her and Helena took a breath. "We're going to have to jump right into this. Today we'll focus on getting everyone a room to sleep in and making sure it's safe and clean, taking inventory of what we have and what we need, and getting into a schedule. But for now, does anyone have any questions?"

A hand in the front went up.

"My name's Ginny. Do you mean we're all here, working together to fix this place up? Why aren't we leveling it and starting over?"

Helena faced the brown-masked girl with the red hair. "The easy answer is, there may be dangerous things within this castle and we don't want those coming up as we knock it down, or a hundred years from now when there's a new town here."

"And the hard answer?" Ginny asked.

"We need the Shadow Kingdom."

"We don't need this hellhole!" cried a soldier in the back.

Others began agreeing with him and Helena raised her voice slightly. "Look, I know the Princess twisted this place. But how many of you grew up here?"

At least half the hands went up.

"And was it always like this?" she asked them.

Most of them answered with no's or shakes of their heads.

"The Princess, and the Queen before her, ruined this place. The Shadow Kingdom was never meant to be a bad place. This world needs balance. The Light needs the Shadow. So we're going to turn this place back into what it was meant to be. An equal balance for the Light. Not worse or better, just different."

A single hand rose up after the silence her remark created.

"Yeah? What's your name?"

"Finley, ma'am."

Helena smiled, "Just Helena. No ma'am."

He nodded, his blue-grey mask covering the left side of his face. "Helena. You're the Creator. What in the name of the dark are you doing here with us?"

Her smile faded as she looked at Finley. His clothes were too large for him and his arm was in a sling. He'd been wounded in the Battle. Perhaps by one of her friends. Perhaps by her. "Like I said," she reiterated quietly, "we're here to change." She moved them along, "Anyway, enjoy breakfast. Choose your rooms from the next floor and clear them out as best you can before lunch. Afterwards, we'll work on getting clothes, bedding, and bathroom sorted out."

She nodded and smiled at them as they tucked in, walking up and down the aisles and introducing herself to each of them. Most of the names she'd have to be reminded of, but she wanted them to look at her as a person, not some lofty regent.

Finishing with her introductions, Helena turned to leave, anxious to get started, and saw a familiar robed figure leaning against the door.

Not wanting to turn back, to let him know that she was uncertain when it came to him, Helena continued towards the door, pausing as Valentine remained where he was, blocking the exit.

She tried on a smile, "Glad to see you up and about."

"I didn't know you were the new regent."

So much for small talk. "It happened rather quickly. Yesterday, in fact."

"I wouldn't have stayed if I'd known."

Her smile slid. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. Excuse me."

He moved aside, but not very far. Helena brushed against his good arm and swallowed. What she wouldn't give for the dream Valentine to wrap her in a hug and tell her things would be okay. Now, she had to go it alone, making things up as she went and hoping she wouldn't ruin anyone's life even more than she already had.

But she couldn't just pretend he didn't exist. They had to work together. She stopped, a safe distance away, and turned. "I was happy to hear about your trial. I knew you weren't guilty."

"Did you, now?" he asked.

"Yes," she said firmly.

"How is it that you ended up here?" he questioned her. "I thought only the non-guilty-but-guilty-feelers ended up here."

"Guess you just answered your own question," Helena stated, turning on her heel. "See you at lunch, Valentine."


	19. But if you ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles belong to "If I Apologised" by Ballamy, Gaiman, and McKean. I don't own MirrorMask.

Valentine had thought that with Helena here, it would be unbearable. But he survived the first moments. Then the first hours. Then those hours turned into days and the next thing he knew, he'd been there for almost a week with only one major incident. That was impressive, as he had still been lingering just out of Helena's sight, rather than completely avoiding her.

He'd tried that. Then that night all he had dreamed about was the Battle, within the tower, where he had come in to see the Princess shove the dagger straight through Helena's heart. Repeatedly. When he stumbled out of bed, eight hours later, with only two of them actually spent sleeping, he knew he had to change something. He'd resolved to keep an eye on her, even if he didn't speak to her. He could do that.

But he'd seen their first altercation coming.

Every meal saw Helena sitting with a new group. She moved among them quietly, sitting and listening for the most part, offering up answers or comments if needed. She did speak some to them, asking them questions to make sure they had everything.

He had to admit, it was a good strategy. No one felt left out, Helena never appeared to be above any of them. She did well.

And then she sat down at his table.

It was lunchtime, on their third day here. Valentine ate alone for the most part, choosing the smallest table in the corner. Nobody tried to sit with him, until that lunch.

She settled across from him, smiling slightly at him.

Valentine continued to eat his lunch, not paying her any mind.

"How's the Tower?" she asked him after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

The Tower had returned to him once it deposited everything and everyone at the City of Light. Valentine had dreaded sleeping in the castle, so he was relieved when it arrived, choosing to sleep in his own bed. "Fine."

"Getting enough rest?" she questioned, looking over his face.

Every night, he got maybe two or three hours before the insomnia or nightmares took over. He'd wandered around the castle at night so often now that he had already figured out where everyone was sleeping.

Still, his answer was, "Yes."

Helena looked at her plate, picking out all the tomatoes from her salad first. "Have to admit, I'm still not used to sleeping here."

With her eyes on something else, Valentine took the opportunity to look her over. His mask hid the shadows and dark circles, but she didn't have that luxury. Her eyes were sunken in, though it was difficult to tell as her smile and attitude kept anyone from noticing how bone tried she was. Her shoulders sagged just slightly when she wasn't paying attention to her posture and he'd caught her rubbing her temples to get rid of headaches more than once.

This is where things got difficult. He'd promised to protect her, which meant he had to stay away, but he'd also promised to look out for her, which required him to get involved.

"You should take off for an hour or two," he suggested, ignoring how her eyes snapped up at the multitude of words he was stringing together without insult. "Get some rest."

She smiled, "Thanks for the advice."

He looked back at his food without another comment.

The Creator was, however, excruciatingly persistent, "Are you feeling better?"

His chest still hurt to breathe, his arm was still in a cast, he couldn't get a full night's sleep, and he still jumped at every little noise.

"Yes."

"I'm glad," she said quietly.

He didn't respond and Helena sighed.

She ate quickly and quietly, finishing her lunch before him and standing up. "Well...great talking to you," her voice was tight.

Valentine just nodded.

Helena waited for a moment and Valentine could almost feel the waves of tension coming off of her, waiting for him to say something - anything - that proved he wasn't the man he was pretending to be.

Still Valentine remained silent.

Helena walked out of the room quickly, leaving him on his own.

For about thirty seconds.

Five trays landed around Valentine on his table. He couldn't quite hide his surprise as he looked over the faces that had suddenly invaded his quiet table.

He knew some of them - the blue-eyed, sharp-tongued Laurel was one of Helena's friends. Nodd was another, but Valentine hadn't had much experience with him. Finley was a former Shadow soldier and he nudged at Valentine's memory, though he couldn't place him. Rickett was another Shadow, one of Finley's close friends, a tall, dark-skinned man with a perpetual frown on his face for one reason or another. The last one was a girl he wasn't familiar with, who had brown eyes and a purple masquerade mask that flared out past her eyes. She also wore a veil beneath her mask, which was unusual.

"So you're Valentine," Laurel said with a glare.

"Unfortunately, you're correct," he answered, pushing his tray back slightly.

Finley leaned forward, catching Valentine's attention, "You don't remember me, do you?"

"You look familiar, but I'm trying to block out most of the past three years, so…" he shrugged.

Finley's arms, neither in a sling any longer, crossed and he tilted his head. "I was Captain."

Valentine began to salute.

"I trained you," Finley finished.

Valentine's hand dropped back to the table. "Ah." He remembered getting some help from the living soldiers, but he'd been so concerned about keeping busy that he hadn't taken the time to get to know anyone.

"I trained you, along with my other boys, and then you set off an explosion that killed four of them."

Valentine recalled the flour explosion. He'd heard the screams of those he'd killed or injured. In fact, he'd heard them again last night in a nightmare. The reanimated soldiers hadn't cried out and they'd been the bulk of the victims, but Valentine had known there were living soldiers among them. And he'd done it anyway.

"They were good boys."

The juggler responded quietly, "I imagine they were."

Finley stared at Valentine for a long moment and the juggler stared back. Maybe Finley would do for him what the council hadn't.

"We were all fighting our own battles," Finley said finally, sitting back in his chair. "I know you did what you could."

Except he hadn't done enough. Valentine reached for his plate, but Rickett slid it away from his hands.

"Gonna handle that for me? Thanks, mate," Valentine forced a smile and stood up.

"Do you mind," Laurel jumped in with one of her dangerous smiles, "telling me why you're being such an utter arse?"

"You'll have to be specific about what arse-type activities I've been doing, because I do quite a few things that could be considered that and I'd need to know-"

"To Helena," Nodd contributed.

"You used to be best friends, and just now was the longest non-conversation you've had since you've been here," Laurel explained.

Valentine let Val handle this. He leaned over the table, getting in Laurel's face, "Remind me how what I do is any of your business?"

She didn't flinch. "You made it my business the second you started hurting my friend."

He couldn't argue with that. "Maybe she should take the hint," he said, pushing away from the table and walking away.

Purple Mask stepped in his way. She was tiny, almost a foot shorter than him, and delicate. Her head was cocked slightly and she grabbed his cast.

"Get off," Valentine ordered, trying to pull away. Those tiny, tenacious hands hung on, though.

"Medic," she explained quietly. "Whitt."

"What?"

"Her name's Whitt and she's the castle's doctor," Rickett explained. "Keep up."

"Fractured ulna. Healing well. Few days more," her voice was as small as she was, moving in disjointed sentences. Dropping his arm, she looked up at him, tiny fingers poking and prodding at his other arm and chest. "Healed breaks all over. Expected. Sallow complexion. Not enough sun? Unlikely. More likely - not enough iron. Too much blood loss, not enough recovery. Remedy: up your iron intake."

"Knock it off, doc. I don't need a checkup," Valentine said, stepping back from the tiny whirlwind of words. She followed, still touching him.

"Temper. Constantly on edge. Lack of sleep. Assume nightmares. Common in soldiers. Exhibiting avoidance of people. Suspected, but undesired response. Diagnosis: Battle fatigue. Remedy: social interaction and-"

Valentine grabbed Whitt's wrist in his hand. "I said, knock it off."

Whitt fell quiet, her big eyes staring at him from mask. Valentine noticed that the others in the room had gone quiet, watching him. Dropping her hand, he stepped past her.

"And conversation with others of a similar condition," Whitt said, her voice carrying in the silence.

Valentine glanced back at her, and the tiny medic lifted her veil.

Her lips were twisted in a grimace, scars slicing and peppered all over what he could see. He assumed that there were more beneath the mask. She covered her face again.

"Solitude is not a remedy," she added.

Looking over the others, Valentine was struck at how many of them had the same shadows under their eyes. The same sagging of their shoulders. The same flinch at loud noises. The same tempers.

In fact, he could only really find one difference.

"I don't want the remedy," he muttered, leaving the kitchen and slamming the door behind him.

The next meal, he'd been alone at his table again, Helena sat with another group, and things returned to how they were.

Unsurprisingly that night, he hadn't slept well. Around two in the morning, he got up and decided to walk around the Tower. When that got boring, he walked outside through the gardens. He remembered Helena warning them not to do that very thing, as they weren't certain what roamed the grounds, but he pushed that aside.

The wind was cold and the grass was slightly damp, so there was a sharp chill in the air. He was glad he'd worn his robe.

The grounds were heavy with trees and shrubbery, making it impossible to see much once you were within them. Valentine stayed on the southernmost section, by his Tower. His footsteps were muffled in the grass, his hands jammed into his pockets as he wandered aimlessly.

He remembered his nightmares. Which hardly seemed fair. He could rarely remember his dreams, but he remembered these with almost perfect clarity.

Well, that was probably because his dreams were all fantasy, while his nightmares were mostly real.

He scuffed his foot through the grass, shaking the memories of the Choir out of his head. He'd have to mention that to someone. They needed to get rid of that before someone stumbled across it. In fact, it was a miracle that no one had yet.

A noise yards away from him made his head snap up. Cautiously, he approached a fork in the path and listened.

He could hear the faint shuffling of something ahead of him, to the left.

Valentine frowned, taking a step nearer.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump and spin.

Helena stood behind him, her hair pulled back and a finger pressed to her lips. She nodded up ahead, obviously hearing the same noise he had. He bit his tongue at whatever epithets he had and narrowed his eyes at her, warning her to get back.

She arched a sarcastic brow, passed him, and walked silently towards the noise. Valentine followed her, already exasperated unable to do much else.

As they got closer, they could hear a heavy breathing from somewhere to their left. Helena tried to peer through the bushes, but they were too dense. Valentine moved past her, trying to regain some control of the situation.

Helena grabbed his arm, pulling him back slightly. He turned to yell at her, but she pointed at a small path through the bushes.

Valentine looked through it, seeing a massive, shadowy form breathing heavily in a small clearing. It was taller than him by far, but the only other things he could see were the six legs and long, two pronged tail.

He stepped back into the shadows as Helena took her time looking. When she finished, she jerked her head at the creature and a questioning look. Valentine shrugged. He'd never seen that thing before. He had no idea what it was, but knowing the Princess, it wasn't anything good.

Helena and Valentine moved away from the creature, trying to get far enough away before they...well, he didn't know what he was going to do.

He opened his mouth to jump the gun, but Helena grabbed his good wrist, her eyes wide, and staring back over her shoulder.

Valentine froze. He didn't hear the creature breathing quietly.

He heard it growling.

Turning, Valentine saw the creature emerging from the shadows behind them.

"Run!" Helena shouted, pulling him.

Valentine followed without a complaint, seeing Helena grab at her waist for a sword that wasn't there. The creature's paws pounded against the ground, gaining on them.

Valentine glanced back, seeing the creature just feet from them. Without another option, he shoved Helena to the side just as the creature jumped, pinning Valentine to the ground with three of its huge paws. His still-healing ribs protested the weight and something in his shoulder popped with an unpleasant feeling, but he was more concerned about the flashes of white fangs that appeared between the swirling shadows.

The growls reverberated through the shadows, making his bones hum.

At least Helena was-

"Valentine!" she shouted, drawing the creature's attention.

"Shut up," Valentine wheezed. "Get out of here."

Helena came closer, holding her hand out in front of her. The monster snarled as she got closer, shifting its weight and making Valentine wince. He was so stupid for coming out here alone, without a weapon, without anything.

Helena lunged forward with her hand outstretched, her palm brushing across the monster's frontmost leg-

It yelped, flinching away from her as she came nearer, getting off of Valentine's chest as the Creator advanced on it. He struggled to sit up, still finding breathing and standing painfully inconvenient.

"Go on!" Helena shouted at the creature, "Get!" She got the side of its muzzle and Valentine caught a flash of bright purple before the thing yipped and ran off into the darkness.

Helena watched it for a moment, making sure it was gone. Only then did she turn to the juggler. "Are you okay?" she asked, hurrying over and helping him to his feet.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to brush her off and cringing as his shoulder protested. "I'm fine. What did you do to it?"

"What in the world were you doing out here alone?" Helena asked, ignoring his command to leave him alone.

He pulled away, "I could ask the same of you. Wasn't it your genius rule to not wander out here alone? What were you doing out here? How'd you get it to leave?"

If she hadn't been so close, he wouldn't have seen the way her eyes flickered towards his Tower. "I couldn't sleep." Her eyes narrowed, "And shouldn't we be more focused on the monster that just tried to eat you?"

Valentine pointed out, "You brought it up first." He pulled away from her too-warm hands, wincing as his ribs shifted again and she bumped his shoulder.

"You're not okay," she noted, letting go of him.

"I'm fi-"

"Stop lying to me," she cut in, with a glare.

Valentine's mouth snapped shut.

Her fingers prodded at his chest, finding the almost healed breaks. "Let's get you up to Whitt."

"I don't need a caretaker," Valentine snapped.

"Well, you sure aren't interested in being friends, so this is all I've got left," Helena said shortly, leading the way out of the grounds.

He tried not to let that sting him, but it did, a little.

"Besides," she continued, her voice dropping some of the emotion held in it just a second earlier, "I can't have you dying on me again. Sucked enough the first few times."

"Sure," he said sarcastically, wincing as his ribs shifted. He passed her, leading the way to the castle. It was only when he'd gotten another ten feet that he realized Helena wasn't with him.

He turned, seeing her staring at the ground. Her throat worked, but no sound came out of it.

He took a half step back to her, unsure what had happened.

"You think..." she started faintly, swallowing hard. "You think I didn't mourn for you?"

"We were on opposite sides of a war," he pointed out, keeping his voice blunt. "I'm...I was the enemy."

"I watched you die, right in front of me. Twice. It didn't matter what you'd been doing, or the fact that everyone thought you were against us, or that you had tried to kill me."

He knew that she knew that some of those had been his copies, but she hadn't known it at the time. "It didn't matter because I saw my best friend die. Not the enemy, not the Princess's lackey. You, Valentine."

Valentine was staring at her when she lifted her eyes. They were bright, but she didn't cry.

"When you died, I mourned for you." Helena said quietly. "I don't give a damn if you care, but don't tell me that I didn't."

She walked past him, her hands in fists.

He couldn't help it.

"You know, Creator," Valentine called after her. "You weren't the only one who watched their friend die."

Helena didn't stop, but she turned and walked backwards to respond to him. "Then you should know exactly how it feels." She faced forward again, calling over her shoulder as she approached the castle, "Let's find Whitt."

Valentine went after her, wishing he could stem the snake in his stomach that only woke up when he'd hurt someone. Stupid damn snake.

He followed silently, biting his tongue against the remarks that roiled behind his teeth.

Helena's fists clenched and unclenched as she walked in front of him. The door of the kitchen ricocheted off the wall as she slammed it open. Valentine caught it and couldn't smother a tiny smirk. Somebody had a temper.

Of course, that temper was aimed at him, which wasn't ideal…

And, based on what he'd seen in his dreams and on the battlefield, it could also be dangerous to his health and important body parts.

He lagged back, wondering if it were better to let Helena pull ahead.

She turned, her eyes blazing, "Don't think you fight me on this. You need to see Whitt."

"As the regent commands," he retorted.

Her shoulders tightened, but she marched them through the back ways of the castle, avoiding the bedrooms of the other soldiers. In fact, Valentine remembered this hallway. He remembered that door. He remembered what was behind that door and stopped.

"Helena," he muttered, having to mention it even with the tension.

"What?" she said, turning to face him and crossing her arms.

"Tomorrow we need to get into this room," he told her. "This is the-"

"The Choir," she interrupted quietly. "Yeah, I know."

He asked, "How'd you know?"

Helena frowned slightly, "Don't you remem- Never mind. Mags and I have been looking into it. We'll be in there tomorrow."

"It's dangerous," he said.

"Yeah. I know," she repeated quietly. She turned to move on, then hesitated. "If you don't mind, we could use another hand tomorrow."

Valentine paused.

"I know it's a lot," Helena continued. "But you're one of the only other people who really knows what to expect here and I'd...I'd really appreciate it."

"Yeah," he said before he thought about it. "I'll help out."

Helena's face softened a little and her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thanks. With the monster on my plate now, it's nice to know that this won't be as difficult."

He nodded, his shoulder pulling and making him flinch.

"Come on," Helena said, gentler than before. "Let's get you fixed up."

The walk to Whitt's room suddenly wasn't as awful as it had been. It seemed like just another moment or two before they stood outside the small set of rooms given to the doctor. Helena knocked loudly and Valentine heard movement before the door opened.

"Late," Whitt murmured tiredly.

"I know," Helena answered, "and I'm sorry. But we were just attacked by some sort of thing outside and I think Valentine's bruised his ribs and hurt his shoulder."

Whitt's eyes landed on him for a moment, then cast between the two of them. "Monster?" she asked, stepping aside and gesturing them to come in.

"Yeah," the Creator answered. "Some big, shadow creature on the grounds."

Whitt pointed Valentine towards a low couch as she lit some candles for more light. There were shelves of vials and herbs, needles and cups, fabrics and dressings. Valentine sincerely hoped he wouldn't need any of them. Maybe the fabric, but that was it.

"Grounds are off-limits," Whitt said, coming over to Valentine while Helena perched on one of the two desks.

"Yeah," Helena admitted. "I know, but-"

"I was out there. She was coming to tell me off," Valentine jumped in. Helena's hazel eyes found his, some confusion swirling around in there. He didn't know why he covered for her. Time was, he would've thrown her to the wolves, or medics, as it was.

He wished he could be that man again, sometimes.

Whitt's fingers prodded at him with more skill than Helena's, but came to the same conclusion. "Bruised, not broken. Good. New dressing needed for that. Shoulder?"

Valentine shifted a little to allow her access to it. He had a feeling it was-

"Dislocated," Whitt decided.

Damn.

"Remedy: replace-"

"Just shove it back in place," Valentine muttered. "Not the first time."

"Ribs first. Remove shirt, to allow better access," Whitt demanded.

Valentine nodded, pulling off his robe and unbuttoning his shirt. Whitt scurried about, gathering this salve and that dressing and some other things Valentine wasn't paying attention to. He had to get his arm out of sleeve, but he couldn't bend his shoulder enough to get it off.

Warm hands brushed his shoulder and he did his best not to flinch. Helena helped edge the shirt over and off of his shoulder, her eyes focused on the fabric and the limb, not his face. Valentine couldn't do much but moved as she arranged him, a hand on his wrist gently holding him still so as not to jostle him. Still, it was near impossible not to move the shoulder and he winced, not more than a tightening around his mouth, but she saw.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"'s fine," he told her, getting a brief flash of her eyes for his trouble.

"Need extra hands," Whitt told Helena, who had taken Valentine's shirt and robe, folding them neatly and putting them to the side. "Stand," she told him.

He did, doing his best to stand straight, though it hurt.

"Get the bruise salve," Whitt said to Helena. The Creator nodded without turning, going to a shelf and grabbing a jar with familiarity.

"Turn," Whitt told him and Valentine listened to the tiny general of this room. "Wrap up ribs, then the shoulder. Need to see damage. Helena? Salve, now."

With his back to both of them, he didn't quite see what happened, all he heard was something heavy hitting the ground.

He looked over his shoulder, seeing Helena reaching to pick up the jar she had dropped. She was lucky it hadn't broken. "Butterfingers," he commented, turning around again.

It hit him then.

_A dark, beautiful, black-eyed version of his friend, glaring down at him from the stairs. A pair of jugglers trying to pull back what was ripped from them by a world that didn't give a damn about them. The words that tumbled out of his mouth the day he stopped being an awful man and started being a halfway decent one._

" _Helena, if I was to say...If I was to say…"_

 _He stumbled over the words. These words, which were the absolute least he could say and he couldn't even get the damn words out - he_ betrayed _her and he couldn't...he couldn't…_

" _If I was to say something apologetic, it would reflect my feelings in this matter accurately."_

_Those black eyes that weren't the way they should be. Those eyes that belonged in another face that was not nearly as nice or friendly or caring or honest or-_

" _And you were right, you know," he continued, those half-good, half-useful, half-a-person words that weren't good enough, not true enough, just not_ **enough** _, "and I was not as right as you were. About everything."_

_She still wasn't back. She still wasn't Helena. He had to bring her back, he had to fix what he'd broken._

" _The windows. The world ending." Being friends._

" _And you probably hate me," he pointed out. "I mean, I'd hate me, too."_

_He did. He does._

" _Look, whatever she's done to you, I know you're still in there."_

_The Creator. The maskless girl. Helena._

_He missed a catch and the ball went rolling past him. He stared at it because...because anything was better than those black eyes._

" _Butterfingers," Helena murmured, drawing his attention._

_And she smiled._

Valentine closed his eyes. How could he have forgotten that? She knew the Choir. She knew it more than he ever did. What had been his threat - his nightmare - it had been her reality.

A touch of something cool made him jump slightly.

"Sorry," Helena said, spreading the salve over his bruised ribs. "This'll help the...the ribs."

He nodded, trying not to focus on her fingers spreading the balm on his sides and chest. His head was crying out to back off, put some distance between them, while his heart was…

Well, it was disagreeing a bit.

So wrapped up in his own head, he didn't notice.

He saw the drop on her wrist before he realized he should look up. Helena's eyes were spilling over, no sobs or cries, or anything like that. Just silent tears, her fingers shaking as she continued to spread the balm over his bruised ribs.

Why was she crying?

Valentine opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't quite sure what just yet, but something would come to him. Probably.

Helena looked up, meeting his eyes. He could see something twisting behind the hazel. She shook her head slightly, blinking away what was left and locking it away.

"Injured?" Whitt asked, touching Helena's wrist.

"Fine," Helena said easily, even forcing a tiny smile. "It didn't touch me."

"Good. Stand back."

Helena did as she was told, stepping out of Valentine's field of vision. Without straining and making it obvious he was looking, he couldn't see her. And he wasn't sure he wanted to see her crying again. He barely breathed as the tiny medic wrapped him up, keeping everything in its proper place.

"Shoulder now," Whitt said. "Lie down. Hold him," she pointed for Helena.

Valentine reclined on the couch, his arm and shoulder hanging off the edge. Helena grasped his hand, holding him steady. Whitt put one arm on his chest, just below his shoulder and the other just above Helena's hands.

"Painful," she warned him.

"I know. Just do it."

"On three. One. Two."

Crunch.

"Argh!" Valentine shouted, the expected pain still just as bad. "What happened to three?!" He sat up, rubbing his shoulder.

"Ice. Tell you to wear a sling, but pointless," Whitt said.

Valentine smirked and shrugged, with a flinch.

"Well. Thanks for your help, doc," he stood. "I'll be going back to bed now."

"No wandering," Whitt ordered. "Goodnight."

"'Night, doc." He walked to the door before he realized he was on his own. Helena hung back with the medic and he overheard some of it.

"Still not sleeping?" Whitt murmured.

"No, it's fine."

"Not fine. Exhausted. Take tea."

"No," Helena said sharply, glancing at the door where Valentine stood. She shifted slightly and dropped her voice, but as the only noise in the silence, he couldn't help but hear her. "I can't take that anymore. I can't wake up from the...it makes it worse."

Valentine stared at the door, wishing he couldn't hear, but unable to move away.

"Headaches, tremors, nightmares, only get worse."

"Well, you know what they say about the wicked," Helena tried to laugh.

"No. What?"

"No rest for the wick...forget it, bad joke," she said. "It's fine, Whitt. 'Night."

Helena patted the medic on the shoulder and walked towards the juggler. They shut the door and walked to the stairs in silence.

Without speaking, they both hesitated at the landing.

He didn't want to ask about the tears.

She didn't want to talk about them.

Helena didn't look at him, but she touched his arm, something half-healed between them. It was still too delicate to look at closely, so neither one of them even glanced. "Goodnight, Valentine."

"'Night," he answered.

She went upstairs and he went down, back outside, into his Tower, as far away from her as he could possibly be.

It was too close.

It was too far.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out her tears. It didn't work.

His night was filled with teary eyes and black eyes, warm hands and cold smiles.

Valentine didn't sleep well.


	20. For the mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles belong to "If I Apologised" by Ballamy, Gaiman, and McKean. I don't own MirrorMask.

" _Helena? Salve now," Whitt ordered._

_Helena grabbed the jar and turned, ready to help get Valentine back into working order._

_And then she saw him._

_The bruised ribs looked painful. The way his arm hung out of its socket was wrong. But it was everything else that made her drop the jar._

_Scars crisscrossed his body like a road map. His shoulders, his back, his sides, his arms, up to his neck and disappearing into his hair. His cast hid more, she was certain._

_They traced every moment of his time with the Princess. Every time he'd done something wrong. Every time he'd spoken out._

_Every second of his pain, laid bare for her to see._

_Every inch of her betrayal and selfishness written on his skin in pale ink._

_She stood in front of him now, spreading the balm that helped the bruises now - but nothing before - doing just this short of nothing to help the man who sacrificed everything and-_

_She couldn't stop the tears, as much as she wanted to. It wasn't fair, for him to see her sad when it was all her fault to begin with. And he noticed._

_He met her eyes with only concern for her and she couldn't speak. Her mistakes were imprinted on his skin, not hers, and it wasn't fair. He should hate her for this, for-_

" _I do," he said quietly._

" _What?" she whispered, not remembering this._

" _I do hate you."_

_Helena stepped back._

" _It's all your fault, Helena-na. This is all your fault," he chuckled, spreading his arms wide to make the scars more visible, "but I'm the one wearing it."_

" _I'm sorry," she mumbled._

_He laughed, but it was a cold sound. "Do you know why Valentines don't apologize, Creator?"_

_Helena shook her head, hating that angry look. The look she'd only seen in her dreams, when he looked at-_

" _Because apologies are useless, meaningless, don't-change-anything, can't-fix-anything nonsense. They're just words," he snarled, advancing on her._

_He'd backed her up to the window, arms on either side of her, boxing her against the glass._

" _And words can't change what you did, Princess," he breathed._

_Helena turned, looking at the window. She could see her reflection._

_Black dress, black nails, blacks eyes._

_And even worse, the juggler over her shoulder was draped in shadows, with dark pits where his eyes should have been._

"No!" she shouted, shaking herself out of her sleep. Panting, she kicked off her sheets and stumbled out of her bed to reach the window. Breathing in the cold morning air, she shivered, relishing the feeling.

She never thought she'd prefer the Princess's memories over anything, but that was worse. Not even the parts that were made up, but the scars.

There was still quite a bit of time before she could go downstairs without getting an angry look and word from Whitt for not sleeping. Helena dressed slowly, catching sight of her back in the mirror while doing her hair.

Two massive scars straddled her back. The newest one, still tinged red and healing was from the sconce in the Princess's tower, where she'd hung on the wall before her skin ripped. It still pulled, but it was manageable.

The other scar was older, all healed. From the blade of an enemy, wearing a friend's face.

Helena pulled her shirt over her head. Guess they all had new scars to bear.

Still, she tried to focus on the positives of last night.

Something had changed between her and Valentine. She wasn't certain what it was, but things didn't feel so strained. She smiled at her reflection for a moment.

Of course, today was a new day and who knew what would happen.

Two hours and a breakfast later, Helena stood outside the door to the Choir with Laurel, Nodd, Finley, Mags and Rickett. Some new faces joined them, too. A very tall former Shadow woman named Gesture and her partner Stayne. Stayne's half mask was a beautiful shade of red and Gesture's, covering her mouth and left eye, was a pale grey. Helena looked around again, hoping she had just missed him and that -

Valentine strolled around the corner, ignoring as a few of Helena's friends as they glanced at him. He nodded slightly when Helena met his gaze and she felt something untangle in her chest.

"All right," Helena began. "Some of you already know what lies behind this door, so bear with me. For the rest of you, this is the Choir."

She tried to explain, "There are boxes in here and inside those boxes are these...robots. Clockwork robots, that twist your head until you're not certain what's real. You forget who you are. And you…"

How could she explain it? That song, that stupid, inane song that she could never listen to again, that pushed at her mind and shoved her consciousness until all that she was, everything that made up _Helena_ , was trapped within a tiny corner of her own head, screaming and shouting, but having no effect on her words or her actions or even her own thoughts. It was a haze of darkness that lay on her mind and made her _not_ her and she couldn't explain.

Helena swallowed and cleared her throat. "They'll sing and make you forget. So, Laurel?" Her friend moved, passing out tiny clumps of cotton mixed with a soothing gel. "You're going to need to put these into your ears to keep the music from getting through. Just hold onto them for a minute, though."

She explained her plan. "We're going to go in and quickly station ourselves between the boxes. As soon as you see movement, the very second that box opens, you need to destroy the robots. They are dangerous."

"Is it permanent?" Stayne asked. "If we hear the music, is there any coming back?"

Helena couldn't help but glance at Valentine. He smirked slightly as she answered, "Yes, you could come back. But I don't know for certain how to do it and I'd really rather not take that risk."

She looked around, "Any questions?" Nobody moved. "Then let's go. Ear plugs in."

Helena went between each of them, talking loudly to make sure the plugs were working. When everyone was ready, Helena reached for the door handle and tried not to lose her composure. The metal was cold and Helena tried not to think of what lay within. She clenched her jaw and shoved it open.

Her team moved effectively, picking out one box apiece throughout the room. They covered all of them and still had a body to spare. Helena grabbed the lid of hers and pulled -

It didn't budge.

She could see her team doing the same things, but the boxes weren't opening. Helena looked around and saw the raised circle on the floor.

_Helena was pushed into the room and onto the platform._

" _Why do birds suddenly appear…"_

_Cold fingers scraped across every inch of her skin, undressing her, stripping away clothes and identity while that song flowed through her head. Part of her, the Helena-part, wanted to get out, get away, but it got quieter and quieter until she was compliant with the hands. Her face was smeared with makeup and her body relished the feeling while her mind cried out for them to leave her alone, to keep their hands off of her, to stop touching her. Freezing metal moved through her hair, up and down her arms, across her lips and eyes, all the while tearing her apart and rebuilding her into something new, something worse, something dark-_

She hated being in charge, sometimes.

Helena walked across the floor towards the podium, waving for everyone else to remain in position. She stepped up onto the podium and the reaction was almost instant.

Valentine was a few boxes away and his mouth opened-

" _Why do birds suddenly appear-"_

The music started, off-key and chilling, and even through her ear plugs it started ripping at her sanity.

Then there was a clamor of metal, snapping springs, crashing cogs and wrecked wheels. But still, Helena could hear the music.

" _Ev'ry time you are near?"_

Boxes smashed around her, she saw it, metallic faces beaten into the ground. One head rolled towards her, stopping as it reached the base of the platform. Still, its mouth moved, singing to her.

" _Just like me, they long to be-"_

Helena stepped back, raising her sword to finish it off. Icy fingers closed around her sword arm. She turned and found herself face to face with one of the robots. Its box was destroyed, but it had hauled itself out of the shattered pieces of wood to put it at eye level with her. It squeezed her wrist until she dropped her weapon, then it leaned nearer, the other hand reaching for her face.

" _Close to you,"_ it sang, the cogs damaged and the sound coming out flat, off, terrifying.

Helena shrugged out of its grasp, backing up to get off of the podium, when she bumped into something solid.

A hand closed around her elbow, but she didn't panic. This one was warm and Helena leaned even further into the reassuring heat, needed to rid her body of the chill from the robots and the song.

Which wasn't playing anymore.

Helena looked around, seeing only pieces of the robots left. The few bits that were still moving were being advanced upon by her friends. In fact, only one person was missing and -

Helena turned, the hand on her elbow dropping away as she faced Valentine.

He was removing the plugs from his ears and she mirrored his movements.

"So, hindsight being what it is," he remarked in a falsely cheery voice, "do we think that was our most brilliant idea, regent?"

"It was the only one I had," she said, hopping off of the platform and checking to make sure everyone else was all right. Other than a few scrapes, everyone was removing their ear plugs without an issue, kicking the pieces of their enemies to make sure they were really dead.

"How about, oh I don't know," he followed her, his mocking voice drawing attention, "not using yourself as bait for crazy, mind-altering metallic beasties?"

"Gather these things up, every last bit," Helena ordered. "We're going to have a bonfire." She knelt down, sweeping pieces into small piles. "And who else would I have asked to do that?" she asked her still irritated shadow.

"I don't care! Anybody else. Use Noddy-boy, nobody like him," Valentine said, gesturing to the soldier in question.

"I'm right here," Nodd muttered.

"See?" Valentine gestured, "He's not disagreeing."

"I was fine," Helena argued, though her heart was still pounding from the adrenaline as she headed towards the door to gather bags and brooms to pick up the pieces. "I had plenty of back up."

Valentine was still on her heels and Helena couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. She glanced at the floor, grinning as he continued.

"Back up is as good as a palimpuff in winter if you go out of your way to put yourself in danger!" he shouted at her, tugging at his hair. "You'd think, having stopped the end of the world twice now, you would have a better understanding of your own safety but-" he broke off as Helena turned, her arms crossed and her eyes dancing. "Why are you smiling?"

She couldn't help it. The tension between them had vanished for the moment and he acting so much like his old self…

She still didn't want to risk too much, though. Helena stomped out the urge to hug him and instead uncrossed and her arms and shrugged a little.

"You were worried about me," she pointed out. "You care."

Valentine's mouth hung open for two seconds before he closed it and backed up a little. "I...Well, you're the regent and I'm supposed to look out for you and I...it's not like I'm-"

"Thank you," Helena said honestly, touching his hand. He didn't react, but he didn't back away, either. "I'm glad you have my back, manager."

That got the tiniest hint of a smile, the corner of his mouth just lifting slightly. "Somebody has to."

She didn't want to push it, so she gave him one more smile and walked away.

* * *

Idiot.

Whitt turned on Valentine, a large saw in her tiny hands.

"Time."

He nodded, his mind still on something else. "Go for it, doc."

She attacked the cast and left him to his thoughts. Valentine thought back on the morning, cursing his stupid mouth for saying stupid words that his stupid head couldn't stop.

Idiot.

But it's not like he had a choice. He'd seen that thing - that robot - reaching for her and he'd jumped up without thinking and then she'd leaned into him and just -

Stayed there.

He stood behind her, feeling her breath come in pants as she stared at the thing that tried to unmake her, feeling her back against his chest as she rested against him for comfort and reassurance. He'd held her elbow, not allowing his other hand to do what it really wanted, which was to wrap around her completely and whisk her away from all of these things. His own heart pounded in his throat as he looked down at the strands of dark brown hair. They hadn't been this close since the Battle of the Mask, in the hallway, where they'd -

She turned to face him, pulling the plugs out of her ears as he did the same. And then it all just started coming out. The stupid words.

All the right-wrong words that broke the wall he'd been trying to build.

And he might have been able to start building it back up again, but she'd _smiled_.

She smiled and all that worry and the shadows on her face and the tiredness in her eyes, it all just vanished.

From now on, though. From now on, he'd be the quiet guardian that watched but never touched or talked or, worst of all, _smiled_ at his charge. He was here to look out for her and that was it.

From now on.

"All set," Whitt said, putting the saw down and brushing the white-grey flakes of the cast from her front.

Cast-free, Valentine walked out of the doctor's rooms, twisting his wrist this way and that as he experimented with it. His fingers were itching to do some real juggling, but he quenched that desire as his stomach grumbled.

He walked into the kitchen, seeing Finley, Laurel, Rickett, Whitt, and Nodd sitting at his usual table, with his usual spot still open. He went to grab a plate and food, and the Creator caught his eye, sitting at a different table with Gesture's group. She glanced at his wrist, met his eyes and smiled at him.

Valentine's mouth turned up.

...idiot.

* * *

_Valentine moved his shoulder, forcing her hand off of him, "Not. Interested."_

" _I am exactly like her!"_

" _You're nothing like her. And Valentines don't settle for second best."_

_She slapped him, hot fury coursing through her._

_Valentine stepped back, the skin below his mask turning red. He seemed surprised, but not hurt._

_She glared at him and he started to smile. It was the kind of smile she gave him. And she hated it._

" _If that'll be all?" he asked, utterly calm._

" _Get out," she hissed, turning away from him._

_Valentine headed towards the door, commenting to her guards, "Gents."_

_She grabbed one of the inkwells off of her desk and threw it at the wall. She must have moved too soon, because she heard a quiet chuckle before the door shut._

_She glared at her guards, "Out." They shuffled to obey her, closing the door behind them._

_She stared at the heavy wood, wondering where this anger was coming from. It was directed at Val and Helena. But there was some left over that she couldn't figure out. Some that felt sour in her mouth._

_She was angry at herself._

_Sitting in her chair, the Princess stared at the MirrorMask. She was beautiful. Powerful. Clever. Why didn't Val want her? Why couldn't she own him like she did everything else in this world? He was the only thing that fought her every step of the way and while she enjoyed the struggle and banter too much to give him to the Choir, she wondered why she put up with it. If she had him re-taught, he'd be like her. They'd have more in common._

_Oh. She didn't want him to be like her. She wanted him to be Val and be hers._

_Why? It was so much easier the other way._

_The Mask reflected her face and the Princess scowled. Instead, he still belonged to the other girl. Helena. She didn't understand._

_The Princess grabbed the MirrorMask. She put it against a wall and pushed, suspending it in the stone. It hung there, and the Mask flattened, making a round mirror. The Princess waved her hand over the mirror and Helena's room appeared before her, empty of its occupant._

_It only took a moment for the Princess to focus and the she found herself stepping out of the mirror in Helena's room. It was quiet and mostly familiar from the time she'd spent here. It hadn't changed much. A few things here and there sparked recognition. The bedspread. The green cushion. The dresser with the-_

_The Princess stopped and walked closer to the dresser. Papers were taped up all around the edges of the mirror, all at least a year old from the state of the paper and smear of the pencil, but all of them were of the same character._

_Dozens of Valentines were looped around her mirror. Helena hadn't forgotten the juggler, despite being here for the past two years. Despite her dalliance with the other Val._

_She was_ supposed _to forget._

_The Princess put her hand on the edge of one of the drawings, grasping it between her fingers. If she tore them all down, would Helena just make more? Would Val just vanish?_

_In the end, she left everything the way she was and returned to home. She pulled the MirrorMask off of the wall and sat down again. Val wanted Helena. Helena at least remembered Val. Fine, all she had to do was keep Helena from coming back. Or, if she managed to come back, she'd just have to kill her. Simple enough._

_The Princess put the Mask down. She would keep him. Nothing could help him except her. Soon, they'd be the only two non-shadows left and then he wouldn't have a choice. Neither of them would have a choice. it was either each other or nothing. They would be the only two left and no one, not even her, wanted to be alone._

_The Princess smiled._

Helena woke up, her heart pounding. She hated this. Memories that weren't hers. Thoughts she shouldn't have to carry.

But tonight she especially hated the feelings left in her. The Princess's memories reeked of loneliness. Such longing to be with another person, to have a connection with another person that Helena's stomach twisted and she hugged her arms around herself, fighting the urge to cry. She hated the loneliness.

She hated that it made her pity the Princess, just a little.

She threw the covers off of her bed and sat up, trying to find some comfort in her surroundings and finding nothing. It was empty of anything. Including relief. Hominess. Anything.

She grabbed her jacket, needing to get out. She had to get out of this entire castle. All of the Princess' memories were here, layering over what Helena knew and tainting it.

She got out of her room without being seen by her well-meaning but overprotective guards. Then she used the side garden door rather than the front door. It was only when she felt the grass under her feet that she realized she forgot to put on shoes. She tugged the jacket tighter around her shoulders, not even knowing where she was going until she arrived.

The door of Valentine's Tower lay in front of her. She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before her knuckles got there. Helena waited, but there was no one there. She traced her fingers along the frame. "Thanks."

She wandered into the kitchen, remembering the last time she was in there. She looked at the cupboards, the memory of that day tempered by the things she knew now. He'd been trying to protect her. Always looking out for her, even at the cost of his life.

She'd never looked around his Tower. Not really. She never really had time to.

The kitchen led to a small sitting room. It was sparsely decorated, but the two small armchairs that were in there both looked well-used. The stairs on the other side of the room must lead up to the bathroom and Valentine's bedroom. A tiny part of her wanted to go up and wake him, just so she had some sort of comfort. But that was selfish; if anyone needed rest, it was him. Besides, she was pressing her luck with their strained relationship as it was, being here without his permission. But the Tower had opened, and she already felt better here than in her room...

There was a blanket on the floor by the armchair. She shook it out, a thin layer of dust coming off of it. She thanked whoever was responsible that she didn't have any allergies. Helena tucked her bare feet beneath her on one of the chairs and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing physically, but Helena felt warmer and more at home here already. She rested her head against the wing of the armchair and closed her eyes...

"Helena?"

She started awake, seeing Valentine at eye level. She cleared her throat, wincing as her neck twinged. "Hi."

"Are you all right? Is everything okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she nodded, sitting up. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't…I couldn't sleep in there."

He watched her rub her neck, "You can't sleep there, either. Why didn't you wake me up?"

She shrugged, "I didn't want to bother you."

He stared at her for a long minute and Helena stood, "I'm so sorry for barging in here. I'll find somewhere else in the castle to sleep. I'm really sorry."

He chewed his lip, something fighting behind his eyes before he sighed. "Come on." Valentine stood up and motioned for her to follow. Helena did and glanced down at what he was wearing.

"Are those future fruit pajama pants?" she asked him, smiling.

"Don't judge."

They got up to the second level, where Helena saw two closed doors and one that was partially opened. She saw a disheveled bed and his robe on the floor.

"Here," he opened up the door farthest from his room. It was completely empty.

"Is this an extra bedroom?" Helena asked, looking inside. It was small, but she never needed a lot of space.

"Not yet. It's just a regular room. If I put a pool in it, it would be the pool room. Or I could grow a tree and make it a garden room. But, I suppose if you put a bed in it, it could be another bedroom." He looked like he hadn't thought of that before.

"Would you mind?" she asked him. "Being Tower-mates? I just can't sleep in there."

"No, I don't…I don't mind," he said. "If you really want to."

"I do. Please."

He nodded, "Then it's all yours. There's a bathroom through here." He opened the other door in the room, revealing a small bathroom. That had another door in it, which apparently led to Valentine's room. "I suppose you could just create a new bathroom, but I'm not sure where she'd put it." He looked up and around at his Tower.

Helena glanced at him. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather leave your Tower the way it is."

He said, "Well, as long as you want it. It's yours."

"Thank you," she told him honestly. "I really mean it, Val."

"Don't call me that," he snapped, glaring at her.

Helena took a minute to realize what she had done. It had been the dreams…the Princess always called him Val. But it had felt wrong in her mouth.

Valentine was still staring at her, anger on his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't…" Helena hated that he was looking at her like he had looked at the Princess. "I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything and Helena looked away. She couldn't see that look. "You know, forget it. I can deal with the castle. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to barge in." She backed away and started to leave the room.

"No, wait, Helena," he turned and stared at her. The look was gone now, so Helena did as he said. "Don't go. I didn't…It's not…"

She couldn't help but smile at their utter incapability to communicate when they felt bad. She decided to go the less-talkative route. Helena walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his chest. "I'm sorry."

He didn't move to hold her, or even breathe for a moment. Then, he put his arms around her, "Don't be."

Helena sighed, closing her eyes for a second. It was odd, that after their fighting and shouting and guilt, she felt at home right there.

"You can call me that, if you like. It's fine," he said, his voice humming.

"No," she told him. "No, it doesn't suit you." She shook her head at the idea of calling him anything else. Especially a nickname used by the girl who ruined his life.

Without his robe on, it was a much different feeling hugging him. She breathed out slowly, feeling his heart thrum beneath her cheek

Valentine pulled away, "So, you need a bed."

"I can take care of it," Helena said, ignoring that she felt colder now. She rubbed her arms against it and eyed the space.

"Do you want help?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

Helena smiled at him, feeling better than she had in days. "Creator, remember? All I need is a pencil and some paper."


	21. Then we're stumbling on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles belong to "If I Apologised" by Ballamy, Gaiman, and McKean. I don't own MirrorMask.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Valentine made quite a few promises in his time, but rarely found himself having to follow them. It was a dangerous, careful game of balancing but, as a juggler, he'd never found it overly difficult.

He'd promised to never owe anyone anything (which is why he used to steal, so he never owed anyone money).

He'd promised to always listen to his mother (that solved itself when she didn't want him as a son).

He'd promised to do the right thing (for himself. Obviously).

He'd promised to never disappoint anyone (which is why he let them have such low expectations of him. Win, there).

He'd promised to be the best Valentine he could be (and since there was only one, he was good with that).

Those promises were easy. Then he had to make another one.

He'd promised to do what's best for Helena.

Which was a little complicated.

See, he should stay away from her, because he wasn't the best for her. But she came to him for comfort, so he couldn't-wouldn't (details weren't important) turn her away. As long as he kept things clear between them...he had to be her friend to look after her, right? Yes. Maybe? No, yes. Definitely, probably, yes.

Most likely.

And it had nothing to do with the fact that he was sleeping better in the days since Helena moved in. The way he could smell her shampoo when he got into the shower in the mornings. How she would be sitting at the kitchen table when he came downstairs, with a breakfast waiting. How when he saw her, the past three years seemed very far away. How-

But she was just his friend. His friend who he had completely platonic feelings for. Who didn't affect him in any way other than how the other people here did.

He came downstairs and Helena looked up from tying her shoes. She smiled, "Hi."

His mouth turned up at one corner and his stomach twisted - dammit, what was wrong with him?

"Sleep well?" she asked, standing up.

For once, he didn't have to lie. "Yes."

"Me, too," she admitted with a smile. Valentine grabbed his robe, wondering how this tiny girl in his kitchen, with the too-large shirt and torn pants, with her hair that fell over her face whenever she leaned over to do anything, how this girl had saved the world twice already. She'd saved both of their worlds. She'd saved him.

He tugged his robe on, trying to rid himself of the dangerous, lurky thoughts in the back of his mind. She was just his friend - that's all he could be for her. That's all he should be.

Helena came over and straightened his robe, tugging the collar straight. Her hands lingered on his chest and Valentine held his breath. Of course, those lurky thoughts lurked forward and he remembered how she'd yelled at him in the castle and how it felt when he'd held her against the wall and kissed-

He stepped back, letting her hands fall off of him. _Behave._

"Looking good, juggler," she said with a smirk. Grabbing her bag with her notebook and pencils, Helena headed out of the Tower.

Valentine watched her go, his robe feeling too hot and his skin burning. Taking a deep breath, he followed the girl who was just his friend.

And he wished he could be more.

* * *

"No, Mags," Helena said firmly, settling into the chair. "We aren't going out there with the intention of killing it."

"That monster nearly killed you the other night and you just want to let it live?" Mags snapped, glancing at Laurel for support.

"She's got a point," Laurel commented.

"It might not be dangerous, beneath the shadows. I don't want to kill an innocent creature if I don't have to," Helena explained.

"You killed the Monkeybirds without flinching," Mags argued.

"We didn't have a choice or the time to try and help them," Helena retorted, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the door was shut. "And I did flinch."

"Helena, we have to-"

"No, Mags," she interrupted. "If we don't have to, we aren't going to."

"Argh," Mags muttered. "And you're sure the juggler doesn't have a clue what it is?"

Helena fixed her with a glare. " _Valentine_ ," she said forcefully, "doesn't know what that thing is. And he saved my life the first time we faced it. So don't do that."

"Do what?" Mags said, fixing her belt.

"You know what, Mags," she retorted. "Throw suspicion on him just because something goes wrong. He doesn't deserve that."

Mags shrugged, then Laurel eyed Helena with a grin. "But he deserves to have you moving in with him?"

"Shut up," Helena said, standing up. "It's not like that."

"Which is why you're blushing like a liar in court?"

"Shut up," she repeated. "It's not-"

A knock at the door interrupted her. Valentine popped his head into Mags' room, "Just wanted to let you know, whole first floor is cleaned up and Noddy claims his groups has finished the west half of the second floor, which I find highly unlikely as the boy can't even keep his shirt on straight, but…" he shrugged. When Mags and Laurel just kept grinning and Helena blushed at the ground, Valentine frowned, "Am I missing something?"

"No," Helena said, glaring at her friends. "Thanks, Valentine."

"Sure. See you at lunch," he said, vanishing and closing the door with a snap.

"Yeah, so nothing's going on," Laurel drawled.

"Drop it."

"Have you guys talked about the kiss, yet?" Laurel asked, making Mags smirk.

"No, but I sure regret talking to you two about it," she snapped at them, trying to sort out if her frustration was with herself or them.

"You've already moved in with him, what're you waiting for?" Mags asked, kicking the chair so Helena sat down again.

"I told you," Helena explained quietly, "it's not like that." She didn't feel right sharing the fact that even though she was sleeping better, it didn't mean she was one hundred percent. Last night had been a good night, but the night before had found her sitting in the armchair by the window for three hours. And it was only because she was up that she heard the muffled screams from Valentine's room.

She'd thought about going upstairs. But he was just as proud as she was and she'd never want someone seeing her like that. So when he stumbled downstairs, drenched in cold sweat and his hands shaking, she'd just handed him a blanket. He sat in the chair next to her and they stared in silence until the sun came up. Then they'd gone their separate ways and not spoken of it.

"Do you want it to be like that?" Laurel asked her.

Helena looked at the ground, feeling the blush start up again. They shared a bathroom, which should have been a little awkward, but it wasn't. Helena got up earlier by habit and was usually getting out of the shower when Valentine was waking up. This morning in particular, Helena had gotten dressed and cracked the door connecting to Valentine's room, to let him know she was done. She'd hadn't been looking, but -

The first time she'd seen Valentine without a shirt, she'd been too distracted by the extensive scarring to really look at him.

Well, she was looking now.

Helena spent an unjustifiable amount of time at the door. The scars were still there, tugging at Helena's heart and guilt, but beneath it lay a tightly wired frame. Finley mentioned that Valentine had been training with him, which explained the definition, but most of the muscles were all Valentine's work. Something stirred deep in Helena's belly, making her breath catch, and she moved away from the door before she got caught.

"Yes?" Helena mumbled. "I don't know. I just...I don't want to let him go again. Is that stupid?"

"That's sweet," Laurel smiled.

"Hmpf," Mags muttered. "You could do worse than him."

Taking that as the positive message it was meant to be, Helena bent over the maps again to work on their plan.

A few hours later, Helena nodded as Mags waved her forward, sneaking through the shrubs. Her friends moved around her, all armed and prepared with their shadowed weapons. It was late afternoon and they were sneaking through the grounds.

Mags had been tracking the monster for days and had figured out where its lair was. Now, they were working on cornering the beast to trap it. The plan was solid. Clear. It had been picked apart over and over again until they were certain it couldn't possibly go wrong.

Which didn't exactly explain how things had gotten so screwed up in such a short amount of time.

"Keep the line!" Mags shouted, her boom-stick held up with the small line of soldiers with her. "Helena, are you good to move?"

The creature's tails had snapped back, taking out Helena, Valentine and Laurel before they could close the pincer movement. Picking herself up off the ground, Helena felt the trickle of blood at her forehead, but could still move. Valentine and Laurel were moving too, if a little stiffly. "We're good!" Helena shouted back. "We're good, right?" she asked her friends.

Valentine nodded, grabbing his sword as Laurel got to her feet, "Sure, if you want to call it that."

"We have to get it in the trap!" Mags shouted. "It wants to run! Suggestions?"

"Bait!" Valentine shouted back.

Helena thought about the cage she had drawn for the creature, located just a hundred or so meters away. The door was open, Rickett waiting there to slam it shut once the creature was inside. The bottom half was pretty well sealed, but the solid wall changed to bars at the upper half to allow for fresh air and light. It was high, but with a running start…

She reached up, feeling the tickle on her face as blood dripped down. She wiped it away, her fingers coming back red. Helena edged towards the path they were trying to lead the creature down.

"Helena, no!" Laurel said, limping towards her on what was clearly a twisted ankle.

"Here, crazy monster," Helena called, waving her stained fingers at it.

The monster twisted its head towards her, nostrils flaring as it caught the scent of her blood.

Valentine edged up next to her, "What are you doing?"

"I'm bait," Helena said, backing up and seeing the monster follow her.

"Wrong," he said quietly. He took her hand and Helena's heart jumped into her throat. He squeezed it tightly, and Helena glanced at him.

He let go of her hand and waved his bloody fingers. "We're bait."

"Ready?" she asked.

"Are you?"

"On three. One, two-"

The monster roared, a screech that pressed on their ears.

"Three!" they both shouted, taking off down the path.

The pounding of six paws behind them ensured that the monster was on their trail. They couldn't afford to lose ground like last time, so they ran as quickly as they could, breath ripping from their lungs.

"Did you get," Valentine panted, "any further in this plan than run?"

"Jump through the top of the cage."

"Oh, brilliant," he muttered.

"Better idea?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I can't hate this one!" he snapped, undoing his coat. He pulled his arms out of it, never losing pace with her, before balling it up and throwing it to the side. "If the monster eats it, you're drawing me another one."

"Deal."

Helena tripped and Valentine grabbed her arm, hauling her up without breaking stride. "If you get us killed by this thing," he said, "after everything else we've been through, I'm going to be very irritated."

"You didn't have to join me," she glared, seeing the cage up ahead.

"'Course I did, I have to look out for you," he snapped, removing his hand as they both prepared for the jump.

"Says who? I can look after myself," Helena retorted.

The monster roared, very close behind them.

"Obviously," Valentine drawled. "Without me, you'd be killed ten times a day and-"

"What the hell are you two doing?!" Rickett shouted from the top of the cage.

"We're bait!" Helena shouted back.

"Of course you are," Rickett responded as they ran into the cage. "Hurry up."

Helena eyed the wall, knowing she'd make it. She ran straight at it and pushed her legs up, catching the lip and hauling herself up and over to land with a thump in the grass. Valentine landed a moment after her, somewhat less gracefully, and Helena heard the slam of the gate and heaved a sigh.

From within, the monster growled and roared, pacing back and forth. Helena could see the shadowed eyes watching her and Valentine above the bars.

The juggler got to his feet, wiping off his shirt and pants. He rolled his eyes on the monster and turned away from it to face her, shaking his head. "Once again, I'm a little concerned about your very dangerous lack of self-preservation. If it weren't for me, you'd-"

Helena saw the slim paw fly through the bars, straight towards Valentine. She reacted, no time to say anything, grabbing Valentine's shirt and throwing both of them backwards onto the ground and letting the monster's paw and claws slice at empty air.

Helena propped herself up on her elbows as Valentine looked over his shoulder at his near death experience.

"So," she asked, cocking her head to the side with a smirk, "remind me again how it's always you saving me?"

Valentine turned back, still lying on top of her. His smile was already in place, but when he looked at her, the smile faded.

She suddenly was very aware of his body on top of her, his arms bracing himself up on either side of her head, the pressure of his hips over hers, how close his face was.

If she thought her heart had jumped when he took her hand, it was nothing compared to the samba it was drilling on her ribs now.

Helena swallowed and Valentine's eyes followed the movement before rising part way back up to her mouth. His tongue darted out as he wetted his lips to say something and Helena's breath hitched.

Dark eyes snapped up to hers and he opened his mouth, "-"

"Helena!" a voice that was not the one she wanted to hear interrupted whatever spell had been woven over them.

Valentine's eyes shuttered over, like he had been during the trial, and the other Valentine came forward, calm, collected, and sitting up easily, as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Helena was sure she was hyperventilating as she got up without his help. "We're fine."

"That was amazing!" Laurel said, helped forward by Fin.

"That was stupid," was Mags' input.

"Worked, didn't it?" she asked, walking around to the front of the cage. "Now we just need to figure out how to get rid of the shadows."

"If they can be gotten rid of," Nodd muttered.

"They can," she responded, eyes on the monster and thoughts on the juggler.

* * *

_He hit the ground hard, ribs protesting. He didn't think on that, though. His immediate thought was to look up and see that Helena was on the right side of the cage, picking herself up easily. As long as she was safe._

_Which was more difficult than he thought it would be._

_She looked at him and he dropped his eyes, standing up and brushing himself off. "Once again, I'm a little concerned about your very dangerous lack of self-preservation. If it weren't for me, you'd-"_

_She lunged at him, the unexpected movement pulling both of them to the ground as something large whipped past where his head had been._

_He twisted back, seeing the monster snarling in its cage._

" _So," a voice more familiar than his own started, "remind me again how it's always you saving me?"_

_He glanced down at her, ready to come back with some witty...comeback - he would do better than that - and froze._

_She lay beneath him, her head tilted teasingly to the side and the smile dancing across her lips. Brown hair hung over one shoulder and hazel eyes were already laughing. He also noticed their position, her legs pinned beneath his while his hips lay against her. He was terrified to move, to breathe, to blink and disrupt it._

_Valentine knew what he felt for her were thoughts of the adult-nature, along with other four-lettered words that were far more dangerous. But he had to keep that all hidden, which was incredibly difficult when her smile disappeared and she looked at him like…_

_Well, like_ that _._

_His eyes followed the movement of her throat and he wanted to taste her skin and her lips and every other bit of her - not necessarily in that order - but he had to be the good guy for once in his miserable life._

_He wet his lips to say something humorous and clever that would make her smile but break the mood and keep her close but not this close and-_

_Her breath stopped._

_Just for a moment. Not even a moment. A milli-moment. He would have thought he'd imagined it, but when he looked at her eyes, it wasn't the laughing, playful hazel he had seen just a minute ago._

_Her eyes had gotten darker. Not in the I'm-a-murderous-psychotic-Princess darker but darker of the adult-nature. She felt the same way. About him._

_He waited for the voice that would break it all, like he knew was coming, but a breath passed. Then another. Then another._

_Valentine looked around and saw that although they were in the clearing, there was no cage, there was no monster, there was no one there but them._

_He looked back at Helena, whose smirk came back, just slightly._

" _This is a dream," he whispered, as if speaking too loudly would wake him up._

" _So? Doesn't mean it's not true," she smiled._

" _Helena, I-" he began, unsure what he was doing. He moved to get off of her, but she grabbed his shirt and stopped him._

" _Don't go."_

" _This isn't real."_

" _Then there's really no reason for you to go," she responded. She rolled her hips slightly and Valentine bit his lip._

_Helena - dream Helena, he knew - leaned up and pressed her lips to his._

_Valentine held onto his promise. For three seconds. Which was impressive, considering how long he'd been wanting to do this again._

_He responded to the kiss, pressing Helena into the grass. Her hands on his shirt tugged him closer still as she arched into him. Valentine braced himself on one elbow, allowing the other to wander down to her hip, his thumb sliding beneath her top to trace small circles against her skin. Helena nipped at his lip and deepened the kiss, her tongue tracing across his mouth. He groaned, unable to keep his hips from rocking into her._

_She gasped and threw her head back, and Valentine lost what little control he had. He buried his face in her shoulder, nipping and kissing at every bit of skin he could find, while his hands roamed a little more freely. His fingers trailed up a flat stomach, dancing across ribs, before sliding around her back to hold her closer, unable to believe that it was happening. That she was here with him, her own hands pulling and tugging at him and -_

_Wait. She wasn't tugging. She was pushing._

_Valentine pulled back to look at her face and something in his chest shattered a little._

_Helena, tears in her eyes, was shoving at him, her voice forming words he could only now hear. "Get off of me! What the hell do you think you're doing?! Get off!"_

_He threw himself off of her like he'd been burned. In fact, every bit of him was burning right now, but he was cooling off swiftly at the undiluted hatred in her eyes._

_She got to her feet, hair and shirt rumpled, and red marks across her neck and shoulder. "What the hell was that?!"_

" _Y-you," he began shakily, "You kissed me and I thought-"_

" _You thought?" she cut him off. "You thought I'd want to do that with you?"_

_He had. Now, he wasn't so sure._

" _You're supposed to be looking out for me, not taking advantage!"_

" _I wasn't-" he stepped forward, his hand outstretched._

_Helena backed away from him, "Stay away from me!"_

_Valentine dropped his hand and took a step back._

" _Don't ever touch me again," she ordered._

Valentine woke up silently, which was a nice change. He sat up, digging the heels of his palm into his eyes, the sharp edges of his mask pressing into the skin. "Stupid," he muttered.

Dreams were dreams. Thoughts he could repress during the day with the living Helena lying beneath him came out in the nighttime, when he only hurt himself. Still, this one had been rough, as it was becoming a more familiar nightmare. Helena screaming at him, hating him, hurt by him...he didn't like that.

He stood and went into the shared bathroom, seeing that the door to Helena's room was shut. Running some water through the tap, he wiped his face and mask clean, scrubbing the rest of the dream off with the towel.

Bracing his hands on either side of the sink, he glared into the mirror.

"Get ahold of yourself, juggler," he muttered. "She's your friend. That's all. You need to behave and not get yourself worked up over her. She's fine without you. She doesn't need you. She needs someone better. She needs a soldier or a prince or..or a-"

" _Valentine!_ "


	22. Through the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles belong to "If I Apologised" by Ballamy, Gaiman, and McKean. I don't own MirrorMask.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

_"Here, Val. Picked this up for you." She handed him the sword, watching him take it. He was clever, he'd figure it out._

" _It's Helena's," she added, thrill coursing through her as he began to open it with a slight frown._

_Finally, she was rid of the competition. The Princess and her guard headed off. With Helena out of the way, this was the time for a decisive movement...or should she let them stew in the knowledge that not even their great Creator was safe from her? Tempting…_

_The guard moved suddenly and she whipped around, startled to see Val letting go of the sword buried into her guard's neck and shoulder, clutching at his wrist with a snarl on his face._

_...he had just tried to murder her._

_Temper and...something else...whirled through her and she settled on cynical. "Bone is so much more difficult. If you knew any better, you would have gone through the softer bits."_

_He swore under his breath and she caught words like, "Bitch" and "Tyrant."_

_She squeezed his wrist harder in a warning, "Language, juggler." The guard walked away as Val straightened up, holding his wrist carefully. The Princess saw the red stains on his coat and felt something almost like pity for him._

_"Are you a little upset, Val?" she asked, hoping to get a rise out of him. She loved their conversations, even when it was just fighting. He could be so clever and quick. She enjoyed it._

_But then he just turned and walked away from her._

" _Val!" she called. Why was he just walking away? He still didn't respond, so she stopped him by force, her shadows holding him still._

_"What's gotten into you?" she asked him, honestly curious. Was he really that broken up about Helena? Why? They'd never been together to begin with._

_"Let me go," he demanded bluntly, his face carefully blank._

_"Go where, Val?" she asked. Back to his Tower? The castle? She might let him, if it would improve his mood at all._

_"Anywhere else that isn't here."_

_"You're being a tad overdramatic, aren't you?" she asked, canting her head the way Helena did._

_"Piss off."_

_"Val, you really need to control your language. It's not becoming. With the Creator gone, the rest of the City of Light will soon fall. Soon, I'll have everything." And I can share that with you._

_"Brilliant. Let go," he repeated in that same detached voice._

_She sighed, "If we two are going to be the only ones left, don't you think you should try to be civil?"_

_He laughed. He laughed at her with cold, cruel noises that reminded her of her mother. It wasn't humorous. This was laughter that mean to pierce and burn her. Unsettled by the similarities, she removed her shadows, wondering if she should be the one to leave now._

_Taking a deep breath, Val didn't run, but fixed her with a glare, "Princess, if we two are the last ones left, I promise you it won't be that way for long."_

_She tried to explain, "With Helena gone, there's nothing better for you. Just me."_

_"Then I'll take the nothing!" he shouted._

_She jumped at the anger in his voice. Up until now, Val's antics had been an amusement, a distraction, entertainment. But just now, he had tried to kill her. She might have pushed him too far, too much, too dark. She was the worst thing in this world and he...frightened her._

_"Watch it, Val," she warned him, her hands rising. "You're walking a very thin line. Your veiled threats are-"_

_"Who said anything about veiled? I want you dead," he stated coldly, no room for her hedging or misinterpreting. "Even if everyone else is gone or shadows, and it's just the two of us, I'll never stop trying to get rid of you. There is no ending where you get what you want. No way in which you'll force me or anyone else into caring about you. If I have to end my own life to prove that you can't get your twisted happy ending, then I'll do it with a smile."_

_He would rather die than even exist in the same world as her?_

_She wondered if he knew. Her mother hated her. Her father abandoned her. The only thing she wanted was for people to stop leaving her, even if she had to keep them by force. She didn't want to be alone. She'd usurped her mother and gotten the kingdom. She challenged the City of Light and destroyed it. She'd turned her casualties into weapons. She accomplished all of it, but couldn't get the one thing she wanted._

_She couldn't compete with a dead girl._

" _You disgust me," he threw at her, digging the shards even further into what was left of her heart. He leaned forward, and for a wild, irrational moment, she wondered if he was going to kiss her, but -_

_"And even though she's gone, you're still only second best."_

_She drew back, her hands lifting with shadows on instinct. He didn't flinch and she couldn't help but be impressed by his strength and courage. She should kill him right this second, damn her feelings and desires, and end his pathetic life. The shadows rose and the Princess glared and -_

" _Valentine!"_

Helena, the real Helena, woke with a scream. Her clothes were soaked through and she couldn't stop shaking. The dreams had been bad before this, but this was…this was…

She leapt out of her bed, rushing to the door. She reached for the handle, determined to make certain it was a dream, but the door opened up before she could move.

On edge, frightened, and still shaking, Helena flinched, tripping backwards and throwing her hands up. Her eyes snapped shut on instinct before she hit the ground.

Someone grabbed her, catching her before she fell.

"Helena? Are you all right?"

Her heart beating through her chest, Helena allowed her eyes to open, seeing a familiar masked face and dark eyes watching her. Valentine must have just jumped out of bed, his hair mussed and pajama bottoms being the only thing he was wearing. He straightened both of them up, but still held onto her shoulders, waiting for an answer.

"'M fine," she murmured, already feeling the blush start. "It was-it was just a dream. I'm sorry I woke you."

He still didn't let her go. "What was it about?" he asked.

"My parents," she lied.

"It wasn't your parents' name you shouted," Valentine pointed out, staring at her.

The heat on her cheeks doubled. "I'm sorry."

"Valentine's don't apologize," he tried to smile.

Helena nodded, but was still shaking.

"Come here," he said, tugging her towards her bed and sitting both of them down on the edge. He pulled the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. He pulled away, hesitated, then put his arm around her shoulders keep it in place. Automatically, Helena curled her feet up next to her, leaning into his arm slightly.

"Were you going to take off outside?" he asked. "You looked ready to run."

"No," she said into the worn maroon blanket. "I was running, but to…"

"To?"

"Your room," she admitted.

He nodded, then asked, "Why?"

"It was my dream," Helena whispered. "Her memories and…" She turned her face into his chest slightly, comforted by the already familiar scent of Valentine - palimpuffs and a spice she couldn't place - and his arm around her.

"What do you mean, her memories?" he asked, his voice buzzing in her ear.

"I haven't told you everything," she said quietly.

"I figured. You've been alive a long time. I imagine it would take you as long as you'd been alive to tell me everything."

She picked at the blanket, quiet, unsure how to phrase it. Valentine was quiet, too, which was odd. She took in a breath and just decided to go with it, "When I was fighting the Princess, we were both holding onto the Mask and..." she trailed off, unsure how to explain. "This world has duplicates in it, like my Mum being the Queen of Light and the Queen of Shadows. And my Dad being the Prime Minister. And you and-"

"Let's not go there," Valentine cut her off. "Rather not be reminded of that."

She wanted to ask why, but there was a point to her ramblings. "And me and the Princess." Before Valentine could argue that she wasn't like the Princess, she kept going, "You told me that if two of the same person held onto the Mask at the same time, the weaker one, the duplicate, gets absorbed into the original one. And that's what I did. That's why she's gone. Because she was a duplicate of me and I took her back," Helena finished, picking at the loose threads in her blanket. How could she explain what had happened?

"She just looked like you," Valentine said. "That doesn't mean she was you."

"But the book said-"

"You dad isn't like the Prime Minister. And your Mum was nothing like the Queen of Shadows," Valentine said. "Right?"

"Well, no she wasn't, but maybe-"

"No, just because you look like someone, it doesn't mean that they duplicated your every thought."

Helena stared at the blanket. How did she explain what had happened? How she was terrified that the lines between her and the Princess were somehow blurring together? "But she was like me. And now she's a part of me. Doesn't that-"

"It doesn't mean you're evil, Helena," Valentine cut off her train of thought before got there. "The fact that you're worrying about it proves that."

She closed her eyes, trying to hold onto the feeling that Valentine gave her. That she wasn't evil, that her dreams were just that. Dreams and nothing more.

"What'd you dream about?" Valentine asked quietly.

"It was just a nightmare."

"About what?"

Helena shrugged. She couldn't tell if she didn't want to talk about it because it frightened her, or because she didn't want Valentine to have to relive it. Either way, she stayed quiet.

Valentine was relentless, though. "It was about the Princess?" he asked her.

"Valentine..."

"I have nightmares, too," he said, as if on another thought.

Helena tilted her head up, looking at his spiked beard. "What are yours about?" she asked, wanting the attention off of her.

"The last three years, mostly."

He said it so flippantly, but Helena knew now. Her nightmares had been his reality. All because she's been too proud and too hurt to keep track of this world. She'd let it go to rot because of her hurt feelings. People had been hurt and the Monkeybirds had been killed and it was all her fault. And here was one of the worst victims of her apathy trying to console her. It was wrong. She'd been so selfish and...

"I'm so sorry, Valentine," her voice was choked, but she refused to cry in front of him.

He pulled her a little closer, "Valentine's don't apologize, Helena-na," he said, rubbing her shoulder.

She rested her head on his shoulder, laughing quietly, "I'm not a Valentine. I'm a stupid little girl, who ruined all your lives just because I was too childish to get over hurt feelings."

He didn't say anything, but Helena couldn't stop. "I was so mad at you," she said into his chest.

Valentine got tense and Helena grabbed the hand that was wrapped around her shoulders to keep him from pulling away. "You were my best friend. The best friend I ever had and you just pushed me away and I was so angry with you. I didn't want anything to do with you and I just stopped drawing completely. I never took the pictures down, but I didn't add anything. I purposefully ignored them. But I couldn't ignore you and then I met Andrew and..."

Valentine tried to pull away again, but Helena refused to let go. "And then I started drawing again and thinking about this world and missing it, but I was scared to try and come back. What if you still hated me?"

Valentine cleared his throat, "Helena..."

"And then by the time I realized that I was being stupid and got back here, it was too late. I was already too late and you paid the price. And then they call me a hero and you the villain, but you're not and it breaks my heart that I did it to you."

"You didn't do anything," he said, trying to console her.

Helena pulled away, kneeling to face him and letting go of his hand. She couldn't see his eyes in the dark, especially not behind the mask, but she knew he was looking at her. "I know. That's the problem. I didn't do anything to help you until things had already gotten bad. I just...I'm sorry. I don't think I ever said it to you. But I am so sorry."

"I think you're the only person in this world who's ever apologized to me." He raised his hand, then let it drop again, settling behind her. "Especially for things that you shouldn't be apologizing for." He cocked his head and thought for a moment, "Well, you can apologize for the look-a-like. I wasn't fond of him."

Helena chuckled despite herself, "Yeah, he was a mistake. I think I knew that going in."

"Then why did you stay with him?"

She swallowed and dropped her eyes to his hand, trailing her fingers across the back of it. "I...because he looked like you."

It was quiet for a long time, so Helena kept focusing on his hand. He didn't move an inch. After a moment of the most silent silence she'd ever experienced, Helena went into self-preservation mode. She looked up at him and smirked, a quip on the tip of her tongue about him being a very important man. But it vanished when she met his eyes.

He looked frightened. Nervous. Unsure. None of which suited him.

The quips and jokes died out, replaced with brutal honesty. "But he wasn't. So I couldn't...he wasn't…" She swallowed. "I could never replace you. And I don't want to."

Valentine still hadn't moved, but was staring down at her with an unfathomable expression.

Helena leaned forward, giving Valentine the time to move away if he wanted. He remained still, even when she placed her hand on his jaw. She had only intended for it to be a simple kiss.

That's not how it turned out.

As soon as her lips touched his, Helena knew she wouldn't-couldn't move away. His mouth was warm and tasted like spice and pears, and though he didn't move for a moment -

Valentine inhaled and was suddenly involved, never willing to be second best. His mouth was warm and much gentler than the first time. Helena could hear her heart in her ears, how loud her breath sounded when he finally pulled away, the way he whispered her name before kissing her again. He sat up straighter, wrapping his other arm around her waist to hold her closer. Helena's arms wound around his neck and she nipped at his lip. Valentine hissed and his arm tightened around her waist. Helena felt her shirt ride up a few inches. Valentine's hand brushed her skin and she shivered, pressing closer into his chest.

Valentine broke away, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her away. She was breathing heavily as she stared him, seeing his own chest rise and fall faster than normal. He got up off the bed and backed away from her, "Right, so. No more nightmares, okay? You're all right?"

She stared at him. "...what?"

"I should get back to bed. Long day tomorrow. I'm sure. Definitely." He continued to back up, bumping into the door frame and stumbling.

"Valentine, wait," Helena tried to stop him, but her knees were all jello-y. Fine time to go all useless.

"Goodnight," he said, shutting the door behind him as he escaped to the bathroom.

Helena sat on her bed, staring at the closed door. What the hell just happened?

* * *

Valentine shut his door behind him, leaning against the heavy wood. His heart was still pounding and he ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the spikes.

Shit.

He just royally screwed up. He kissed, and he meant – _kissed_ –Helena. Creator of his world. Savior of the world. Twice. And he was…Valentine.

Shit.

He banged his head against the door. Stupid.

But…she had been kissing him back.

No, probably she had been just too surprised to realize what was going on. She wouldn't kiss him. Not after everything he'd done. He was an awful man.


	23. But we wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the MirrorMask, their characters, settings, or anything else of value.
> 
> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

The castle hadn't seemed all that large to begin with. There were about fifteen guest rooms on the second floor. The large kitchen and storage room, dining room, ballroom, throne room and entryway dominating the first. The South Tower that had been put off limits until Helena could get the Prime Minister or Librarian out there to look through all the dangerous books and potions the Princess had up there. The North Tower was mostly empty now, but based on the newer chains put into the walls it had been the Princess' dungeon. Outside the castle itself were the garden and the barracks, which were currently unoccupied.

All in all, a lot of space, but was the castle a massive structure? Not quite.

Besides the castle, the only other large structure was Valentine's Tower, which they were both currently living in. Which made the fact that he'd been avoiding her completely for two days now all the more impressive.

If infuriating.

Any time she'd entered a room, he'd been just on the verge of leaving. Any time she'd finish a meal, he'd be on his way in to eat. Anyone watching just thought that their schedules were off, they were out of sync, but Helena knew better.

Once she'd figured out what he was doing, she wasn't able to spend much time wallowing in it. Their schedules were full and grew even fuller on the third morning.

Helena walked in, seeing that Valentine was already done with breakfast and on his way to clean up his plate. He didn't meet her eyes, despite that her gaze was probably burning a hole in his skin. Her mouth tingled with the memory of the other night and she felt her face heat up.

"…lena? Helena?" Mags repeated her name.

With a shake, Helena dragged her attention away from the juggler and glanced down at the soldier. "Yeah, sorry."

"A letter," she responded, handing it over. "From the Queen."

Helena forced a smile, "Thanks." She leaned against the wall and ripped it open. Within the first few lines, past the pleasantries and greetings, she knew that everyone would have to hear it. She called for everyone to stay where they were, stopping a white robed juggler at the door.

Helena skimmed the contents quickly. The others were watching her, with the painful exception of Valentine, who'd been doing everything in his power not to make eye contact with her.

"The Queen wants to have a party here," Helena said, putting the letter down and tapping her fingers on the table.

"A party?"

"Here?"

"Yeah. To prove that the Shadow Kingdom isn't all bad. So that means a lot of work. She's set the date for next week," Helena said.

"Next week?"

She nodded again, staring at the paper. They'd have to clean up all the remaining bedrooms, get enough settings for a large party, clean the ballroom and surrounding corridors, get enough tables and chairs, tidy up the gardens, and decorate all in a week. The Queen was providing the food, the chefs, the servers, the music, and the guests. Helena was organized and knew how to delegate. It came from helping to run a circus. This was doable.

"Right. So we're going to need cleaners for the castle," she said, opening up her notebook. About half the guards' hands went up. Helena wrote their names down. "I'll make something that will help you clean up a little faster...head to toe cleaning of everything, minus the South Tower. Then we'll need the outside group." The other hands went up, with Valentine still being conspicuously still. Helena thought about taking advantage of being in charge, but on second thought she realized she didn't want to force her company on him if he was so intent on staying away from her. "Valentine will lead you in cleaning up the gardens and harvesting what we've got available out there."

She looked at the paper to write all that down, feeling dark eyes on her head as she focused.

"What about the Bandersnatch?" Laurel asked.

Bandersnatch was the monster they trapped in the cage. Helena had given it the name from the old Alice in Wonderland stories she liked so much.

"I'll think about it," Helena said. She'd already thought about it and had a plan, but nobody was going to like it, so she kept it to herself.

"And you?" Mags asked.

"I've got making enough beds for everyone, chairs and tables, and decorations." She didn't mention the Bandersnatch. "Sound good?" she looked up, catching Valentine's eye before he headed out the door. Everyone murmured their own answers and Helena picked up her plate. "Then let's make this the best party the Shadow Kingdom has ever seen."

The next two days were a blur. Helena made brooms and dusters that attracted the dust, ensuring that a once through would pick up everything. Then she created basic plumbing for all the bathrooms. It was a bit more complicated than the plumbing for the tower, or the sinks she created in the kitchens, but she got it on her second try. Because of that, she was able to create hoses to clean out the corridors, with drains subtly placed to get rid of the water. Then she followed the cleaning crew around, creating beds and dressers for each of the bedrooms. With so many of them working on it, all the bedrooms were cleaned by day two, which meant they could start on the ballroom and the kitchen. Helena was just happy she wouldn't have to draw another bed for a while.

The pace that they kept at made them all exhausted. They ate in near silence and disappeared off to bed almost immediately after. They barely saw the outside crew, as they got up earlier to beat the sun and went to bed just as the inside crew was starting dinner. She barely saw them. And none of them made an effort to see her.

On the fourth day, after getting a good portion of the kitchens done and stocked with everything the garden crew was bringing in, Helena went outside to work on the hidden portion of her agenda. Dealing with the Bandersnatch.

She walked through the gardens and had to admit that she was very impressed. It was cleaned up without looking tamed. The path was easier to walk on now and Helena was able to follow it without any difficulty. There was still a bit to be done, but it was doable considering the time they had left.

Helena corrected her course to head towards the main gates. She had her notebook and pen tucked under her arm. When she got to the gate, she figured she was home free. She looked around and didn't see anyone following her. She picked up the pace and headed towards the future fruit grove. Helena looked around, keeping an eye out as she walked, but saw no sign of the outside crew.

Good.

The maze wasn't as terrifying now, without a terrifying monster stalking the grounds. It was actually quite beautiful out here. Peaceful, even. Helena smiled slightly as she walked towards the cage.

The Bandersnatch heard her approach and snarled, looking up at her without eyes. Helena opened her notebook to a black page and held it up. She'd hoped her shadow page would work as well as the shadow weapons. That was another upside of going alone – if it didn't work, she wouldn't have to worry about disappointing anyone. The only reason she hadn't tried this earlier was because almost every one of the shadows the Princess commanded was over a dead body. Saving the bodies wasn't as important.

But now she had a chance to save someone.

Helena got as close to the cage as she dared, the Bandersnatch snarling and pacing inside. Holding the notebook in front of her, she started towards the creature.

It snarled louder, hissing and backing away from her. Even more interesting, the shadows pulled off of the Bandersnatch's muzzle, leeching into the pages. When Helena closed the book, the Bandersnatch lay on its stomach in front of her, staring up at her with the brightest purple eyes she'd ever seen.

"Hullo," Helena said. The Bandersnatch didn't get up, but stared at her, staying completely still. Helena opened up to the page of the trap and said under her breath, "I hope you aren't still vicious..." Slowly, she erased one wall of the trap.

The Bandersnatch looked at the wall as it vanished and got to its feet, padding over to the opening. It slowly approached Helena, sitting down a few feet away from her and watching her.

It was a gray-green color and very thin. It had fur, though the horns that protruded from its shoulders were covered in scales. The six legs moved easily with one another, never getting in each other's way. The two pronged tail twitched, but it reminded Helena of a content cat rather than a predatory sign. Then again, she'd been bitten by several cats in her day, so maybe her judgment wasn't that spot on.

"My name's Helena," she said quietly, watched the pointed ears spin towards her when she spoke. "We've been calling you Bandersnatch, but I don't know if you have another name."

The Bandersnatch shook its head forcefully, then edged its paws forward until it was lying down. Helena took a seat and watched the Bandersnatch. "You really are quite handsome. I'm sorry you had those shadows on you."

It continued to watch her, a lot more understanding behind its eyes. It was like talking to the Monkeybirds.

"I hope you don't usually eat people. We've got some food back at the castle, but I can only bring you back if you promise not to hurt anyone," Helena said.

The Bandersnatch stretched forward until its paws brushed her leg. She knew that beneath that catlike paw lay claws as long as her fingers, but none of them appeared. Very lightly, Helena scratched the Bandersnatch behind the ears. It started to purr so deeply that she could feel it vibrating in her legs.

She smiled. "I didn't think you were bad. How about you come back with me and I'll get you something to eat and a comfier place to sleep?"

The Bandersnatch got to its feet and twined around her, nearly knocking her over. She laughed and got up, erasing the rest of the trap as she did so. "The others are going to flip when they see you. Just don't attack anyone, okay?"

The Bandersnatch purred again and followed Helena as she left the future fruit grove and headed back to the castle. They got through the gate without seeing anyone. It was about lunchtime for the outside crew, so she was hoping that they could get through without running into anyone, so she could at least explain before they saw the Bandersnatch. She could just imagine the reactions if someone were to see her walking with it-

"Helena?!"

She turned at the same time the Bandersnatch did. Only she wasn't snarling with hackles up.

Helena saw Valentine standing on the path, staring at her and the Bandersnatch. The Bandersnatch started forward, but Helena ran past it, getting in front of Valentine.

"No, wait," she told it, knowing it could understand her. It hissed, glaring at Valentine and starting to circle. Helena moved with it, keeping Valentine behind her. "Stop. He's a friend. Just like me. We're friends and no one is going to hurt you, okay?"

Valentine grabbed her arm, "Helena, what did you do?"

"It had the shadows on it, so I got rid of them. It's friendly," she said.

"Obviously," he muttered.

She huffed, stuck in the middle, "Look, he may not sound it, but he's a nice guy, most of the time." The Bandersnatch stopped circling, but it didn't stop the snarling. "He won't hurt you as long as you won't hurt him. And vice versa. So let's stop, and everyone calm down, okay?"

The snarling stopped and the Bandersnatch stared at her, its head lowering a little as if it was ashamed. Helena stepped away from Valentine, though he only reluctantly let go, and held her hand out to the Bandersnatch. It nudged underneath her palm, purring. Valentine took a step closer and the purring stopped, the purple eyes locking on the juggler. Helena heard the snarls start up again and quietly said, "Stop it."

Valentine stayed away from the Bandersnatch. "I don't like it."

Helena stepped back and the Bandersnatch stood up, keeping her between it and Valentine. "I think the feeling is mutual."

"Then why is it here?"

"Because it's hungry and alone," Helena said.

Valentine shook his head, "I can't believe you went and did that without telling anyone."

She shrugged, "Any of you would have tried to talk me out of it."

"For good reason! It was dangerous and stupid and you shouldn't have gone alone," he snapped.

"None of the rest of you would have gone with me," Helena said.

"I would have," he muttered. "Stupid, foolish, little-"

Helena felt her temper snap. "I'm sorry, but in order for me to ask you to come with me, you'd have to not be avoiding me. We'd have to actually be talking, which we haven't done in days now."

Valentine glanced at her, "I'm not avoiding you."

"You're just leaving the room any time I come in? Pretending not to hear me when I try to talk to you? Ignore me when I knock on your door? Yeah, that's not avoiding at all," she said sarcastically. The Bandersnatch growled next to her and she reached out to pet it, trying to soothe it or herself, she couldn't tell.

Valentine grabbed her hand and stopped them, "Helena, it's complicated."

"Not to me," she said quietly, glancing up at him. Usually she loved his mask, but right now she hated that she couldn't clearly see his eyes. She couldn't see what he was really thinking.

He stared at her and opened his mouth to say something, when -

"Is that the Bandersnatch?"

"Helena, did you catch it?"

"Look out!"

She pulled away from Valentine's hand and faced the others, explaining things again. When she looked back, Valentine was gone.


	24. And it's too late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the MirrorMask, their characters, settings, or anything else of value.
> 
> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy.

It was three days before guests were to arrive and Helena was having a rough time of it. "Sit!" she shouted.

Amazingly, the Bandersnatch sat, giving her a sad look.

"No, you're having a bath and that's final," she said, ignoring the snickering around her.

The Bandersnatch huffed, then let his head sink down to allow access to his back and ears. His matted fur was still dirty, but the cuts on the Bandersnatch's fur had to be cleaned and the creature wasn't being very helpful.

"Thank you," she told him. She almost rescinded it when she looked at her clothes, but bit her tongue. It's not like getting upset would make her clothes any drier or less torn up.

"Why don't you go back to the Tower and get some dry clothes," Mags suggested. "We can handle him."

That's absolutely what Helena wanted, but she still said, "Are you sure?"

"Go. We've got this."

"Thanks, Mags," Helena said, squeezing the woman's shoulder and leaving the hall. She heard Mags say, "Now, listen here, you big brute, if I have to go get her because you're being a brat, we're going to have a serious problem, understand?"

Helena chuckled and hoped that the Bandersnatch would behave. Though it would be faster to cut through the gardens, Helena took the long route back to the Tower, not wanting to have a repeat of the other day with Valentine. She just wanted to take a hot shower and forget about parties and drawing and jugglers and baths and Bandersnatches.

She made it to the Tower without incident and almost ran up to her room. Peeling her soaking clothes off, Helena just grabbed a towel and then went into the bathroom she shared with Valentine. Even sharing this rather necessary room hadn't allowed for any communication. He was quite good at avoiding her. Helena found herself staring into the mirror a few moments later and promised that she wouldn't think about the juggler any longer. She hopped into the shower, turned it as hot as she could stand, then let the water wash away her frustrations.

All too soon, her responsibilities started listing themselves in her head, reminding her that she couldn't be lazy or wasteful. Helena got out of the shower and dried off, wrapping the towel around her as she took a few more selfish moments. She sat on the edge of the tub and combed out her hair before braiding it back and out of her way.

She'd just tied off the end of her braid when the bathroom door slammed open. Jumping up, Helena grabbed the edge of the towel. It had seemed more than enough when she was alone, but now she was conscious of exactly how much of her the towel didn't cover and how it seemed to be designed for size negative zero midgets.

Valentine had frozen in the doorway, clearly startled to have found her here at this hour. "What..."

"Shower," she answered him. "You?"

"Same," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at her.

Single word sentences were all that they seemed capable of. Helena tried to pull up her earlier anger and frustration, but just found a bit of loneliness and wishing that they could at least go back to being friends. She didn't look at him, "Sorry, I'll get out of your way."

"No, it's okay. I can wait," he told her.

"I'm finished. Just leaving," Helena told him. "Really, it's all yours." She hated this tiptoeing around, both of them trying so hard to be polite and not say anything that would upset the other.

"Thanks, then," Valentine managed.

She didn't break her rule, not really. She didn't look at him. But she may have glanced up into the mirror when he turned to twist the shower back on. "What happened?" she asked, forgetting about being polite and boundaries and his apparent dislike of having her near in the sight of the scarlet lines that wound all over his back.

"I fell into a bush that seemed to be very annoyed with being landed on," Valentine said. "It's nothing."

"Not nothing. Jump in and then I'm cleaning those up for you, whether you like it or not," Helena ordered.

Valentine looked ready to argue, but then he nodded faintly, "Whatever the regent commands."

Helena went back into her own room, annoyed that she hadn't thought to lie out her clothes so they could dry faster. She did so now, but her pants wouldn't be dry anytime soon. She grabbed an overlarge shirt, one that she usually slept in, and rationalized it that girls in her world wore shorter things and called them dresses. This would be fine for now. The next was to hunt for the first aid kit she'd drawn up a few weeks ago. She found it several minutes later in the tiny closet - who knew she would've filled it up so quickly - and then turned to grab her notebook.

It was then that she realized she couldn't hear the sound of the shower any longer. "Dammit." Helena dropped the notebook and forgot about drawing new clothes. She opened up the bathroom door, her suspicions confirmed when she saw Valentine half dressed in his room and clearly not intending on waiting for her. Grabbing the first aid kit, she stormed through the bathroom and took the shirt out of his hands. "Sit," she ordered.

He perched on the edge of his bed, glancing at her, "It's not a big deal, I'm fine, so-" He made to stand up and Helena stood directly in front of him and pushed on his chest, "Sit," she told him again, aware that she was significantly shorter than him and was really not an intimidating figure at all.

Valentine swallowed and did so, without argument this time. Helena sat behind him on the bed, looking over his back. He was right, the cuts were superficial, mostly. A few of them deserved to have some antibiotic ointment put on them, and she would do just that.

She tried to ignore the other scars that crisscrossed his skin, putting the ointment on the new injuries.

"How the garden coming?" she asked him. Her voice was quiet, dropping slightly with the rising tension.

"Fine. Just about finished."

"Good."

"And the inside?" he asked after a moment.

"All right. Almost done," she answered.

Conversation with him had never felt this forced. Not since their first meeting after the Battle for the Mask. However, she still pushed.

"Thank you, for working so hard," she commented. "I really appreciate it."

He scoffed quietly.

"A few of your coworkers came up to me and mentioned how much you've been doing," Helena admitted.

He shook his head, disbelieving or refusing to listen. Either way, it made her frown.

"There are people here who think very highly of you," Helena said quietly as she covered the last of the cuts. "I know you don't agree, but maybe you should start listening to them."

He stood up and grabbed his shirt, backing away. Helena stayed where she was, knowing that she'd pushed too hard. Valentine pulled the shirt over his head, "Thanks for the patch up."

"Yeah," she murmured, watching him run-without-actually-running towards the door. He grabbed the handle and she added, "Bye, Valentine."

He nodded quickly and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Valentine got out of the shower, the cold shower, letting the water continue running. It wouldn't do for Helena to help him, not after he'd made such a fool out of himself. He dried off with the towel, trying to keep images of a towel-clad Helena out of his head except - oh, look, there they were again - No. Bad Valentine. Dried off, he turned off the water and bolted into his room, hoping for a minor miracle and...

Hmm. Would have made more sense to turn off the water after he got dressed.

With a note to do that the next time he was trying to escape, he pulled on his pants and trousers and had almost begun to hope that he would make it.

The bathroom door opened and Valentine knew that he'd run out of time. He kept trying though, grabbing his shirt-

Helena snatched it out of his hands and glared at him, "Sit."

He did, but not because she told him to. It was more out of shock as to what she was wearing. It looked like one of his shirts, hitting her about mid-thigh. The sleeves were rolled up and the cuffs too big around her wrists. With her hair still damp and bits escaping her braid to curl around her face, she looked even younger than he tried to remind himself she was.

And at the same time, she looked much older. Old enough to know what she was doing. What she did to him.

Escape. He had to get out of there and found himself rambling and unable to look away from her, "It's not a big deal, I'm fine, so-"

He stood up, wondering exactly how rude it would be if he just bolted for the door right now. He hesitated a moment too long, though, and Helena moved to block his path. There was no backing away from her, the bed was hitting his knees already.

She put her hand on his chest - were her fingers really that warm or was he just ice cold from the shower? - and pushed him gently.

"Sit," she told him again.

This was turning into one of his daydreams - one of the good ones that didn't end with her crying or yelling at him or begging him to leave her alone - except it was actually happening. Valentine swallowed painfully, aware that his heart was pounding, and sat back down.

Helena didn't move from in front of him, didn't move her hand from his chest. He waited. Any second now, she'd walk behind him with the first aid box and they'd have an almost normal conversation which just made it harder for him to leave her alone but the he would leave and he'd feel guilty and that was the way it was, except it wasn't happening because Helena pushed harder on his chest and he fell back against his bed and there was no first aid box nor even any cuts to tend to, but suddenly Helena was there, on top of him, sitting low on his hips and this was _not_ what had happened earlier.

"Helena, what are you-"

She smirked, the coquette gone and replaced with the more realistic version of her. The one he lov-

"I had thought it would be pretty obvious," she joked. Her tone belied the slight shifting of her hips that made Valentine grab the sheets.

"Why?" he asked her.

Her smile softened, replaced with a little hesitance. "Because you wouldn't. And it's what you want, right?"

"I...It's not that I want..." Dammit. Mouth, brain, start working!

Helena leaned over him, brushing her lips across his, her hand holding him still - as if he would move now! - and her thumb tracing his mask. It was sweet and gentle and pure and so not what he'd be expecting of the girl half dressed and sitting on top of him in his bed.

He had to think a few seconds after she pulled away to remember how to breathe. When he did remember, he managed to be even more eloquent. "But you're...you-"

"Want this. And more specifically, you," she told him. "And I think I'm being pretty obvious." She laughed a little and Valentine heard the faint shyness come through. On instinct more than anything else, he put his hands on her waist. She put her hands on his chest and pushed herself into a sitting position. "So, my manager, all you have to do is tell me if I'm right or wrong." Her fingers traced nonsensical shapes on his skin. "Do you feel the same way about me as I do about you?"

This had to be a dream. It was the only thing that made sense. The only way Helena would be saying these things. And in dreams, people didn't get hurt. If in the off chance he did get hurt, Valentine considered if it would be worth it.

Obvious answer, really.

"Yes," he murmured.

He wasn't sure she heard him, but he couldn't stop himself now. Valentine sat up, keeping her steady in his lap, capturing her mouth and rejoicing as her arms wound around his neck to pull herself closer.

He groaned, her arms feeling like the home he never really had, and held her all the nearer because of it. Valentine dropped his lips to her neck and she chuckled slightly. But then she kept laughing and laughing and it sounded…

Wrong.

He pulled back and Helena's eyes were black.

"No!"

* * *

Helena flinched and shot straight up in bed when the shout echoed through her walls. Her soldier and guard training had her out of bed and moving before she'd realized what she was doing. She went through the bathroom, her hand on the doorknob before she finally had the presence of mind to hesitate.

A second shout broke her resolve.

She'd never before bothered him before during one of his nightmares, but in none of them had he ever sounded this…scared. She pushed the door open and saw Valentine thrashing on the sheets, his shirt soaked through with sweat.

Helena's hands hovered over him, choosing to call his name, "Valentine! Valentine!"

He didn't respond, just twisted in his bed even more, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Throwing caution to the wind, she grabbed his forearms and shook him, "Valentine!"

His eyes snapped open and then he moved.

Valentine leapt up, twisting his arms until he was the one holding her. He slammed her back into the wall and leaned in, the fear that erupted from his scream turning into anger that was etched into every fiber of his being as he glared at her.

"You're gone," he snarled.

"What? Valentine, I-"

He didn't look her in the eye. "Shut up. I told you to stay away from me, Princess."

She froze as he put his forearm across her throat. "Val-"

He pressed harder, cutting off her air. "No."

Helena was in a dangerous position. On the one hand, Valentine was choking her. On the other, he was doing it because he thought she was the Princess, and if she fought back, he would continue to believe it. So that left her with a really unfavorable option.

She didn't fight back.

Her vision was going blurry as she lifted her hand to touch Valentine's wrist. She tapped on it, trying to draw his attention to the truth.

He glanced at her fingers. "What are you..." he trailed off, seeing the scars from the spider, but no spider.

Valentine fell back from Helena, staring at her. She rubbed her throat, attempting to draw in air without gasping.

"Helena."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Just me."

"I didn't..."

"I know. It's okay." Her throat hurt, but there wasn't any permanent damage as far as she could tell. "I shouldn't have woken you up."

He was still leaning against the wall, not looking at her. "I was having a dream. I thought you were somebody else."

"I know. It's okay, Valentine. Really. It was an accident."

He shook his head, "I hurt you."

"I'm fine. It was an accident."

He grabbed his robe, shoving his arms through it. "I've gotta get out of here."

"Valentine," she said. He was running away from her. Again. She grabbed his fingers and tried to hold him still. "Please, everything is fine."

"Everything is so very far from fine, I can't even see fine from where I am," he said scathingly, pulling out of her grip.

"Valentine-"

He slammed the door behind him.


	25. And we only had to be asked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the MirrorMask, their characters, settings, or anything else of value.
> 
> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy.

Valentine clenched his fists, glaring at the offending limb.

He'd hurt her.

He'd broken his promise.

Sighing, he leaned his head back against the stone wall. The dreams weren't helping. Dreams mixed with nightmares all twisted up into real memories. He wasn't able to stand it.

"Valentine?"

The voice from the door made him flinch internally, but he didn't move. That voice was ingrained in his skin, he knew who it was.

"You okay?" she asked quietly, stepping into the room. Her eyes dated around the small cell with the large mirror and the simple cot that Valentine was sitting on. Her jaw jumped as she looked around.

"Sure," he answered quietly.

"What are you doing in here?"

He glanced at her and she nodded slowly. "Oh."

"You didn't come back to the Tower last night," Helena pointed out after a minute.

He shook his head, biting his tongue.

"Valentine, it was an accident," she began.

"Drop it," he snapped.

"No."

Valentine glared at her, "I don't want to talk about it."

"I do."

"Too bad, regent."

"Don't call me that," Helena said, crossing her arms and her brows snapping together.

"It's true."

"You make it sound like something bad. And you only call me that when you're angry."

He shrugged.

"Everyone has nightmares, Valentine," she said, trying to pull the conversation back.

He laughed shortly, "Yeah, well. Most people's nightmares stay in their sleep."

"Just come back to the Tower, Valentine. It's your home. You shouldn't be sleeping here…" she glanced around the room again.

Valentine shrugged again.

She stepped into the room further and reached out to touch his shoulder. Valentine flinched away and she paused, stepping back.

"I miss my friend," Helena said. "And we were almost there again. Being…friends."

He didn't answer, that last word loaded with a lot more than friendship.

"I wish-"

"Wishes won't do anything, regent," he snapped. He stood up to go and Helena blocked him. She was tiny, but a physical wall between him and the door.

"You can't go back to that," she retorted back.

"To what?" Valentine asked, staring down at her.

"To that other Valentine!" she glared, fists clenching at her sides.

He didn't pretend he didn't know what she meant.

"You can't," she repeated quietly, grabbing his robe in her hands. "Please. Don't shut me out again."

He took a moment to remember this in his mind. Helena holding on so tightly to him, to whatever they were becoming.

Then he grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands off of his robe.

"Valentine…"

He walked out.

* * *

She was a hero. The Creator. The savior.

Only, right now, she felt very much like a terrified, nervous girl.

She knocked on the kitchen door, knowing that it was Valentine's turn for dishes. The others had all scattered, off to bed or elsewhere.

He didn't answer, but Helena persisted, too stubborn to back away now.

"I know you're in there, Valentine. Open up."

A few more agonizing seconds before the door creaked open.

He wasn't wearing his coat, and his shirtsleeves were pushed up to his elbows. Water still dripped off his forearms as he wiped his hands off with a towel. "Little busy here, regent. Need something?"

His tone wasn't what she had been hoping for, but she didn't back down. She slipped inside the room, ignoring his attempt to stop her, and closed the door. "I'd like to talk to you, but the only way I can do that is by cornering you somewhere."

"Then take the hint."

"What is going on with you?" she asked, already exasperated. Valentine turned away from her, going back to the dishes. "One day, you're acting like I'm your worst enemy, you snap at me or worse, ignore me completely. Then the next, you're keeping me from having nightmares, you're helping me, you're acting like you're my best friend. Which is it? And why is it happening?"

He didn't answer her, scrubbing at the dishes.

She chewed her lip, then decided that going all in was the only way she'd ever get answers. "Why did you kiss me?"

There was a crack, and Valentine pulled out a corner of one of the plates. He gripped both sides of the sink and didn't turn to face her. "Which time?"

"Any time," she answered, relieved that he actually acknowledged her.

"One, I thought we were all going to die, so why not?"

"And the other night?"

Valentine turned around and leaned on the sink, his arms crossed. The smile on his face was the bad Valentine's smile. "You kissed me."

"You kissed back."

The smile was still in place. "You're a pretty girl. And the other soldiers aren't really my type. Why not?"

"I was convenient?" Helena clarified.

He shrugged, "Nothing personal."

No. It was personal, because he was belittling whatever this was between them. Helena's confused swirl of emotions collided and sparked within her. She stalked forward and grabbed his shirt, yanking him down to her mouth. It wasn't gentle and she wasn't even 100% sure why she was doing this, but she wanted some kind of real reaction out of him. Some iota of truth that he couldn't hide behind his mask or his words.

Valentine was tense beneath her fingers, frozen in the face of her unexpected onslaught. Helena ground her hips into his and ran her tongue along his lip. That pulled a groan from somewhere in his chest and suddenly he joined in.

His clever tongue battled against hers, both of them fighting for control of the situation and not finding any. Arms wrapped around her so tightly that she was shocked she could still breathe and she wound hers around his neck hauling herself up and pulling him down at the same time. There was no space between them and it was still too much.

He picked her up, turning so she sat on the edge of the sink, her legs wrapping around his waist. He grabbed her knees, pulling her flush against him, both of them gasping at the contact. Helena's head fell back and he took the advantage to attack her neck, nipping and kissing at the exposed skin. She had her fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him close, refusing to let him shy away like he'd done so many times before.

She went for his neck, the only part of him that she could reach. Valentine busied himself with sliding his hands along her legs, then up the back of her shirt, splaying his hand on her back and pulling her impossibly closer. Helena rolled her hips and Valentine grunted and bucked against her, his fingers curling into her skin.

"Valentine…" Helena breathed out, unable to contain the words that pressed against her lips.

He froze.

Not even her grip stopped him from moving away, from sliding away from her, letting her slip off of the sink to feel so utterly bereft of...something.

He didn't run, a minor miracle in and of itself, but Helena could already see the other Valentine coming up to shadow his features. The openness of his features being subdued and covered up again.

Helena felt insignificant. What had happened wasn't an act of love, but it had stemmed from it, at least on her part. Now it was being eaten away by rejection, hurt, and guilt.

He didn't run. This time, it was her.

He followed her, just like she always followed him, this inevitable, unbreakable connection between them that kept them pulling and pushing at one another, but getting no closer. If they continued down this path, if they kept to this painful pattern, one of them was going to end up broken.

If she hadn't been already.

"Helena-"

"If it was about convenience, why did you stop?" she snapped at him, facing him in the main hall and praying no one was around to hear.

His mouth stamped shut in a thin line.

"Because here's what I think. I think you do care about me, but you're lying to yourself and trying to make me hate you because of some twisted sense of punishment." He opened his mouth but she talked over him, "And I can understand why you'd want to hurt me, but why are you hurting yourself?"

"I don't want to hurt-"

"I love you."

The silence in the hallway was palpable as Helena revealed the honest truth and Valentine stared at her like he didn't know her. When she couldn't stand it any longer, she said, "Say something."

He didn't.

She shook her head, "Fine. Then I'm done with...whatever this is."

Valentine moved then, grabbing her arm. "Helena, wait-"

She reacted rather than thought, stomping on his foot and shoving her elbow back. He let go, rubbing his chest and frowning at her.

Her temper snapped. It hadn't been the harsh words or pushing her away or even rejecting her, but this - _this_ sent her right over the edge.

"Don't tell me to wait! I am _done_ waiting, Valentine!" She stomped off down the hallway and heard him coming after her. "Don't follow me. I'll get my things out of the Tower and move back into the Castle."

"You don't have-"

"I want to." That wasn't quite a lie. She just wished there wasn't a reason for her to want to.

"Fine."

"Fine."

He turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction. Helena was almost to the Tower before Nodd ran into her.

"Hey, Helena, Mags wanted me to...are you okay?"

She hadn't realized she was crying until he said something. She wiped her eyes and muttered. "I'm fine. What did she want?"

"...Was it Valentine?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I knew he was a traitor. He never should have been excused, he should have-"

"Drop it, Nodd."

"-seen his feet dangling as he paid for what he did. He deserved to-"

Helena stopped and grabbed his shirt and twisting it. "You don't know what you're talking about. Drop it. Now."

"He's a traitor," Nodd said, fighting against her grip.

Helena glared at him. "He is the bravest man I have ever met. If I hear you say another word about him that hints otherwise, you'll regret it." She dropped Nodd's shirt and stepped away.

"Never thought I'd see you defending an asshole like him."

Helena spun around and slugged Nodd in the nose. He yelped and fell back, covering his nose.

"I warned you." She walked up the stairs to the Tower and opened the door.

"He hurt you!" Nodd shouted before the door closed.

Helena hesitated, her voice softening slightly, "Yeah, well...I hurt him. Maybe I deserved it."

She shut the door behind her, hoping Nodd would take the hint and not follow.

* * *

Valentine was stalking about the gardens, wasting time before he could go back to his Tower. Good she was moving out. It would make everything easier.

He hadn't realized it'd be this difficult to get her to stop caring about him.

Knowing how these things went, Valentine hadn't wanted his reputation to drag down Helena's as well. Sure, they forgave him now, but the second something else happened in the Shadow Kingdom, all eyes would be on him. He couldn't risk Helena being caught in the fight as well. She was better than he was.

And he'd hurt her.

"Laurel!"

Valentine froze, not realizing he'd come so close to the castle's kitchen entrance. Not wanting to be seen, not in the state he was in, he stepped back into the shadows.

"What's up?" Laurel asked.

Valentine couldn't see, but he recognized Nodd's voice. "I think you should check on Helena."

"Is something wrong?"

"Yeah. Three guesses who caused it."

"Nodd..." Laurel reprimanded quietly.

"No. He had her in tears and when I say one thing, she comes after me like it's my fault!"

Valentine stared at the ground. She hadn't cried in front of him, not that he blamed her. They were alike in that respect at least.

"There's history there," Laurel murmured, clearly not wanting anyone inside to overhear. "I tried to warn her-"

"That he's a traitor and a psychopath?"

"That he's been through a lot and perhaps he's taking on more responsibility for what happened than he should," Laurel finished firmly. "People suffering like that need time and forgiveness. Not others rehashing every mistake." The last jab was clearly directed at Nodd.

"He hurt her."

Valentine flinched, knowing it was true and hating that he couldn't hear it. Hadn't that been his goal? Hurt her enough until she finally gave up on him?

Except, she didn't seem to be giving up on him. Not if she was still defending him to her friends.

"And worst of all, she thinks she deserves to be treated like that," Nodd hissed.

"Valentine isn't the only one recovering from this war," Laurel murmured. "Helena talked a lot when we were on the move. She created this world and the Princess. Then she abandoned it out of anger, only to find out that Valentine had been trying to protect her. She feels guilty for not trusting him, for inadvertently causing the deaths of all the people in the war, for the loss of the City of Light, for everything. I think she even feels responsible for Valentine's change."

"What change?"

"He used to be happy. Helena thinks she ruined that. That it's her fault he went through everything he did. He might be carrying around a lot of guilt, but Helena's trying to take all of his and more. Helena's convinced Valentine changed because of what she neglected to do, and he's convinced that Helena changed because he hurt her. They're both too stubborn to sit down and actually talk to one another."

"He's still a son of a bitch," Nodd muttered.

"I think he's a hero. So does Helena. And the Queen, the Prime Minister, the Judge, even the Librarian and those two never got on. Even Drag said he wasn't sure he would have been able to do what Valentine did. The only people who don't believe it are Valentine and those too stupid or jealous to see the truth."

Nodd scoffed, then bid a hasty goodnight to Laurel. He walked off, never noticing Valentine in the darkness.

He waited, not wanting to run into Nodd a few yards away. Not when he was itching to have a fight and Nodd was itching to beat Valentine to a pulp.

"Might as well come out," Laurel called, startling Valentine. "Nodd might have his head shoved somewhere, but I don't."

He sighed, then stepped out of the shadows, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Laurel had her arms crossed as he appeared, not even the slightest bit startled. "Juggler."

"Soldier."

"How much did you hear?"

He shrugged. "I never hear anything."

"You going to do anything about her?" Laurel asked him, cutting straight to the point.

"Who?"

"Don't be an ass."

He kicked at the grass. "She's better off without me."

Laurel rolled her eyes, "Oh, save me from the noble types."

"Helena deserves someone who is better than me. Without my reputation."

"But she wants you."

"She doesn't know what she wants."

Laurel laughed scathingly, "Oh, you want to say that to her face? She'd tear you a new one. And given what Mags and Drag taught her, she'd be very thorough."

Valentine couldn't help but smirk a little. She wasn't wrong about that. Laurel continued, "So you think that you've driven her off and everything will be fine now? What about when someone else starts after her? She's a catch. Warrior, hero, regent, Creator. You're going to be able to watch her be with someone else?"

He hadn't considered that. "Yes."

Laurel smiled at him. "You'd tear them apart the second someone put his hands on her."

He didn't agree or disagree.

"Why can't you two just be selfish for once in your lives? She wants you, you want her. So just go be together, already."

"She doesn't want me any longer."

"No, she doesn't want to put up with your bullshit any longer. She knows you care. But you keep drifting back and forth and she can't figure out if it's just for fun or convenience or whatever. Or if you really want to be with her."

"I hurt her." The words escaped before he could stop them, slipping out into the night and making Laurel's face soften.

"It was an accident."

"No excuse," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Laurel was quiet for a moment, then sighed, "Look, she'd kill me if she knew I told you this, but you two are so damn stubborn…" She straightened, "She holds herself personally responsible for every new scar you've got. Every one of them."

He frowned, "They aren't her fault."

"Yeah, but in Helena's mind, it's her fault for not trusting you the last time she came here. She thinks, that if she'd seen through your crappy lies, that you two could have stopped the Princess then and there and none of this would have happened, and you'd be fine."

"That's ridiculous. The Princess would've killed both of us."

"That's what I say, but she's got in her head that this is all her fault. The war, your scars, the deaths of everyone involved. Everything."

He scoffed, "It was all the Princess, not her."

Laurel stared at him and he knew that he'd walked right into her trap, "Exactly."

Valentine glanced at the ground, trying to wrap his head around an excuse that would bring the blame back to him, but not finding one. "I should talk to her."

"Yeah. But not tonight. You've pissed her off, Nodd pissed her off. She's in no mood to listen," Laurel shrugged. "At least not to either one of you."

"How do you know Noddy annoyed her, too?"

"'Cause she punched him in the face. I love her, but subtlety? Not really her thing."

Valentine chuckled. "She really hit him?"

Laurel walked over and put her hand on his shoulder. He didn't flinch, but he tensed up.

"Helena stormed a castle, fought a shadow, put herself on trial, and told off anyone who said something negative about you, up to and including the Queen herself. She did that for you." The soldier smiled, "So, yeah. She slugged Nodd, too."

Valentine smiled.


	26. So we don't say anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the MirrorMask, their characters, settings, or anything else of value.
> 
> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy.

"And I have to say," the Queen smiled, "I'm very impressed."

Helena smiled, "Thanks."

"You've done very well in such a short amount of time."

"It was definitely difficult," Helena admitted.

It was the morning of the party and the Queen, her retainers, and the servants had arrived at the break of dawn to help set up and decorate. Right now, the Queen, the Prime Minister, the Librarian, and Helena were in the cleaned and partially decorated dining hall, enjoying a light lunch.

"Guests should be arriving in the next four hours. What else needs doing?" the Prime Minister asked.

Helena rubbed her eyes, "I've got a few people upstairs cleaning up after the plumbing accident. It's all fixed now. Clothes are all set for my group."

"Are they appropriate?" the Librarian asked.

Helena hid her irritation with the Librarian behind a smile, "The Shadow Kingdom won't disappoint."

"We'd never think that," the Prime Minister interjected smoothly.

"Good. If you'd like a tour, I'm sure Mags would be able to set something up for you," Helena said, getting to her feet. "Or you can wander on your own, but I'd avoid the guard's barracks outside." She headed towards the door, the list of things that needed doing short, but becoming more necessary.

"Why?"

Helena paused, confused for a moment. "Oh, because there's a monster in there. His name is Bandersnatch and he's actually not that dangerous, but he's intimidating and a little shy. So I'd leave him be."

She stepped into the hallway and nearly bumped into another familiar face. "Drag!" she exclaimed.

"Regent."

"Oh, knock it off," she said, bending down to hug him.

He hugged her back, a faint smile on his face.

"Have to say," Drag said, "I've missed having you around. I've had my hands full with Deci's replacement. Have you met him?"

"No."

"Bront, is his name. Handful. Arrogant. But he knows what he's doing," Drag said.

Helena smiled and he became a little more serious.

"No hard feelings?" he asked her. "You know, arresting your friend and all?"

"No," she smiled. "You did your job. No hard feelings for me yelling at you?"

"I saw Nodd's nose, I'd say a shout wasn't too bad," Drag said, eyeing her.

Helena flushed. "I had a rough night and Nodd was…being Nodd."

"You sure you're all right?" he asked her. "You seem a little ragged."

"I'm fine," she insisted.

Valentine walked by them, his eyes on the other end of the hallway as he moved from one task to the next. Helena kept her eyes fixed on Drag, not letting them chase after him like she wanted.

He glanced behind him, then sighed. "Ah."

Helena just shook her head.

"Not like you to give up, Creator," Drag noted. "Especially on that one."

"Yeah, well…." Helena trailed off. "I guess I had to learn sometime."

Drag stared at her and then cleared his throat, "How about a tour of this place, then?"

Mentally cataloguing her to-do list, Helena figured she could spare a few more minutes for him.

"What do you want to see first?" she asked.

"I heard there's a monster."

Helena smiled, "Come and meet Bandy."

* * *

Valentine glared at the pile of clothes on his bed. "Nope."

Mags glared at him, "You have to. It was sent over special for you."

"Valentine's don't wear things like this."

"We're all wearing new clothes. Helena's gone through so much trouble to make us new things and now you're just going to-"

"Helena made this?" Valentine edged closer to the bed and poked the pile of grey and dark purple clothes.

"Yes, she made all of them. And she's run out of time to make you anything new, what with taking care of Bandy-"

Valentine rolled his eyes.

"And the decorations, and the plumbing had a complication. She's been working on all of that. I have to follow her around to make sure she eats and sleeps. She nearly fell down the stairs the other day she was drawing so much," Mags shook her head.

Valentine stared at the clothes. "So Helena made these?"

"We already covered that," Mags muttered. "So shut up and get over it. Be grateful and put them on."

He glared at her. "Fine. Got it."

Mags left after another glare from him and much flapping of hands. He shut the door behind her and stared at the clothes. "So Helena-na made this. For me. Specifically. My clothes. For this evening."

He grabbed one edge of them and flipped them to the side to see what they looked like. It was…dashing.

Helena wanted him to look dashing. Or thought he looked dashing.

He smiled.

It was time for a party. He put on the clothes and glanced at himself in the mirror. Yes, dashing. Dashing enough to make amends without making an apology. He could do that.

Valentine stepped out of his room and hopped down the stairs. He would show up at Helena's door looking dashing and appreciative and then he'd…

Well, he'd figure it out when he got there.

He reached his hand up to knock, but the door opened before he got there. And then he definitely could not figure this out.

The man that was leaving Helena's room was handsome. Maybe. No. But he was smiling. And Valentine could see past him to see that Helena was beaming as well. She didn't see him, since Valentine backed up out of his way. The man murmured an apology as Valentine stepped back. The juggler shook his head, "No…'course."

The stranger shut the door behind himself, "Impressive girl, that one."

"Yeah. Yes. She is." He was babbling. He stopped.

"Well, then," he said, smiling. "I'll see you downstairs."

"Right. Yes. Downstairs."

The man vanished down the hallway. Valentine stared after him, standing in the hall and not moving.

He was still there thirty minutes later when Mags showed up to hurry Helena along. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"Leaving. Right now."

Mags got to the door and opened it up, "Well, be off with you. The Queen's waiting for one of you to make an appearance. I told her you were getting ready an hour ago."

Valentine glanced up and saw Helena just past the door. She met his eyes, bold as ever. She glanced at his clothes, but the door was shut before he could respond.

He headed down the stairs, his shoulders tight.

* * *

Valentine slipped down into the ballroom, using one of the back corridors to keep from having to make a noticeable entrance. He was a very important man, but he wasn't so comfortable with everyone's eyes on him. He hung out on the edges of the room, slipping through the crowd with the ease of someone who's comfortable with anonymity. One of the only good things that came from the Princess. He was quite good at sneaking now.

"Valentine," a voice said from behind him.

Of course, some people were also very good at finding others.

He stopped, seeing the Queen of Light behind him. He managed a quick bow, "Your Majesty."

She smiled and waved it away. "I must admit, I am very impressed with what you've done to the place."

"Yeah, it was all Helena's work."

"She is very bright. Has she come down yet?"

Valentine shrugged, "Not sure. I don't think so."

"You didn't come down together?"

Way to rub it in. "No, she wasn't ready yet."

"Ah, well. Thank you again for helping her here. I know she appreciates it. As do I. I'm not sure what kind of trouble she would have gotten into without you here."

Valentine thought about Bandersnatch, the nightmares, the falling, "Don't think I'm doing that much good, to be honest."

"Of course you are," the Queen said. "But how are you?"

"Me?" he asked.

"This place has been a healing venture for both of you. So how are you?"

Valentine answered shortly, "Fine."

"Of course, you can only be healed if you allow yourself to be."

He didn't answer.

A man approached them and the Queen sighed quietly, "Oh. Valentine, meet Bront. The Librarian's new assistant."

Valentine looked up and glared. This was the man he'd seen coming out of Helena's room. He had dark hair, brown eyes, and darker skin. His mask was gold and a little gaudier than most – it covered both eyes and arced up over the top of his closely shaved head. He was well dressed, but at least Valentine had the upper hand there. His outfit was just as formal and more unique than the new Librarian.

"Bront," the Queen said, "meet Valentine, the regent's adviser here. Valentine, this is Bront."

Bront shook Valentine's hand, "Pleasure to meet you."

Valentine smiled quickly, but didn't answer.

Bront's eyes glimmered behind his mask, "Oh, you're _that_ Valentine. The juggler."

Valentine crossed his arms, Bront's tone making it clear he wasn't finished.

"You murdered my predecessor."

"Bront," the Queen said sharply. "That is out of line."

"A thousand apologies," Bront said, bowing his head slightly.

"And no," Valentine cut in. "I didn't kill Deci."

"Oh?" Bront smiled.

"No. And yes, I'm the juggler." He nodded to the Queen, "Excuse me."

Valentine worked his way through the crowd, Laurel catching his eye and smiling. Valentine nodded at her and smirked at Nodd, whose nose was still red and swollen.

He skulked around the room, avoiding conversation and dancing. He hated dancing.

He gotten good at avoiding people and their gazes, which is how he came to be standing by the door.

Valentine had been debating on skipping out on the party altogether, so he should have gotten credit for showing up at all. He slouched by the door, avoiding Bront and the Queen and everyone else.

Then someone slipped through the door.

Helena didn't notice him, but he was close enough to see her take a deep breath, clench and unclench her fists, then step into the crowd. While he'd slipped through the crowd undetected, Helena walked right through the center, speaking to everyone who approached her.

He didn't feel so inclined to leave now.

* * *

Valentine hated dancing. He wasn't any good. He could find a rhythm in juggling, but that was the only rhythm he had. So when the dancing really began, he hugged the edge of the room and avoided the eyes of anyone who approached him. When the song began, he'd take a moment and look over all the couples on the floor. It was impressive, the way they all knew what to do in time with one another. He enjoyed watching the Queen and Prime Minister twirl around, even though he was a good two inches shorter than her. Mags and Drag were less elegant, but the grins on their face made up for it. He saw Nodd and Laurel, Rickett and Whitt, Helena and-

Bront.

She was laughing, her cheeks flushed as they moved across the floor. She certainly didn't have a problem finding the rhythm. The Librarian's assistant was grinning as he spun her around, grabbing her waist and lifting her up in time with the rest of the crowd. When the song ended, Bront bowed and kissed her hand, and Valentine may have broken one of the dishes on the table when he happened to catch sight of it. A server came and cleared it away, Valentine backing up to give him the room. When he looked up, another song had begun and Helena was no longer in sight. Neither was her dance partner.

Valentine had a sudden desire for some fresh air. He went to the side garden, knowing it was smaller and less likely to have others in it. He slipped out the door and froze on the landing.

Helena was sitting on the bottom step, Bandersnatch's chin in her lap as she scratched behind his ears. The monster lifted its head when Valentine appeared and growled under his breath.

"Nice to see you, too," Valentine muttered, knowing there was nothing for it now.

Helena didn't turn around, but tugged on Bandersnatch's ear. "Cut it out, Bandy."

"Stupid name for a ferocious, fierce, flesh-eating monster," Valentine remarked. He took a few steps down the stairs, standing behind Helena.

"I named him Bandersnatch, everyone else shortened it."

"Still silly."

"Yeah, well..." she trailed off and Bandersnatch stepped back, shook and wandered off into the dark.

"I thought he was in the barracks," Valentine said.

Helena sighed, "He kept getting out, so I just asked him to stay in the gardens and leave the guests alone."

Valentine remained where he was staring at the back of Helena's head. Her hair was up and all knotted, revealing her neck and shoulders. The dress she worse, from what he could see, matched his exactly in color. A dark silvery grey, that hugged her like a second skin. It didn't leave much to the imagination, not that he was imagining-

Oh bugger it, yes he was.

"Did you need something?" Helena asked him. She didn't turn around, but her voice sounded a bit tighter.

"Just some fresh air. Getting away from the dancing. Not one for dancing, me."

Helena stood up and faced him, "Well, enjoy your-"

"You..." he trailed off, staring at her. The dark gray bled into the same deep purple that he was wearing and the skirt flared out around her feet. She looked older. And beautiful.

She crossed her arms and stared at him, "I?"

He cleared his throat. Recover from this, Valentine. "You look different."

She nodded shortly, getting ready to brush past him.

He grabbed her arm, her skin hot beneath his fingers. "Helena-"

Pausing, she didn't look at him, "Valentine, we've done this. And I'm not doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Putting myself out there to have you literally run away from me again," she said quietly. "You don't feel the same way, and that's fine, but let's not play these games, okay?"

"I'm not playing games," he told her.

"Then you need to make up your mind and stop playing with mine," Helena snapped at him. "I know what I want, you're the one who seems to be confused." She pulled her arm away from him and started up the stairs.

Valentine stared after her. Bandy growled from the darkness behind him. Valentine took a breath and told the shadow, "When you're right, you're right."

He got into the ballroom just as another song was starting up. Helena was back in Bront's arms, this time her smile forced but in place. Valentine weaved through the dancers to appear behind Helena. He glared at her Bront. "Mind if I cut in?" He didn't wait for a response, but snatched Helena's hands out of the man's loosened grasp and twisted her away.

"Excuse me," Bront said, "but you're being very rude."

"Yeah, I know. Go away now," Valentine told him.

Helena's face was annoyed, but she kept her voice low. "What are you doing?"

"Continuing our conversation."

"I don't have anything else to say."

"Juggler, I insist you leave her alone," Bront interrupted, standing just off to the side and looking quite out of place.

"Shove off," Valentine said. When Helena gave him an exasperated look, he added, "Please."

Bront finally left and Valentine returned to his conversation, "And good, because I have things to say."

She sighed and shrugged, "Fine, what do you have to say?"

"You weren't important when I first met you. And although I'm a very important man, few people seem to realize it."

She bumped into someone else as they turned and Helena pushed back against his hands to lead him, "Do you even know how to dance?"

"Nope. Anyway, we were friends, even though I had a few slight setbacks. Then you show up again and suddenly you're a hero and a creator and regent and I'm the guy they wanted to convict but couldn't."

"Valentine-" The hardness was disappearing from her face as she looked at him.

"And I thought staying away would be better, so if didn't ruin your reputation, hanging around with someone like me and to be honest, I'm still not entirely sure that I'm going to be able to be good enough for you-"

"That's ridiculous," she interrupted him.

"Maybe. But despite all of that, I can't just stop feeling- and believe me, I've tried quite hard - and I know exactly what I want and it's-"

"Pick me up," she said.

He grabbed her waist and lifted her up, putting her back down in time with everyone else. "You," he finished.

Helena had both her hands on his shoulders, "Then why did you leave?"

"Because you're you and I'm me and I just...I panicked, which Valentine's are known to do from time to time."

"And now?"

"I may be an abysmal dancer, and a less than impressive adviser, but I'm a brilliant juggler and I'm not panicking. Not at the moment, at least," he told her.

Helena smiled at him. "You're not abysmal. And you're a great adviser."

He glanced around, seeing that they were the only couple not moving. He grabbed her hands and tried to follow along, if only to get the inquiring eyes off of them. Now that it was done, he felt at least ten pounds lighter. "Thank you, for the clothes, by the way."

"You're welcome," Helena said, the smile on her face real and all because of him.

"So, what now?" Valentine asked.

"Well, we have to stay at the party. And later, we'll talk some more."

"Right." The music stopped and he stepped back, but Helena reached out and took his hand. Little fingers twined between his and Valentine felt himself more anchored to this maskless girl than anything else in the world. He smiled down at her and she led them off the floor to mingle and chat with everyone he'd been trying to avoid.

Though, with Helena by his side, he really didn't mind it.


	27. Couldn't hurt to try it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the MirrorMask, their characters, settings, or anything else of value.
> 
> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy.

If he thought it would be awkward, being with her, he was wrong. It was easy. And natural. Like he'd been waiting his whole life to find this girl. Like she was made for –

-well, he was actually made for her, but the metaphor still stood.

With only a few exceptions, no one even looked at them a second time once they saw Valentine's hand wrapped around hers. Everyone else had apparently seen it coming. Mags even muttered, "Finally," as she walked away from them.

It didn't make everything simple, though. Valentine found himself reiterating the promises that he had been intending to keep, silently. He wouldn't hurt her. He'd always do what's best for her. He'd stay by her side. Just now it was with an added bonus of actually belonging with her.

It felt nice, to belong. To stand with someone as an equal.

And there was also another thing he hadn't expected.

She'd been teasing him.

Not that he minded all that much. And maybe she wasn't doing it on purpose, but she was doing it nonetheless.

They'd be talking with the Queen and she'd touch his arm just hard enough to feel through his coat. When they got caught in the bottleneck of people heading to the food, she stood in front of him, just ghosting along his front until he felt jittery. The few times they danced, her fingers would play at the nape of his neck until it was everything he could do not to kiss her in front of everyone here.

By the time she excused herself to use the bathroom, he was more than a little on edge. He paced the hallway by the bathroom, his hands clenching and unclenching unconsciously. He was not a patient man.

When she came out, she saw him and smiled. "You didn't have to wait."

He walked away from the ballroom, towards one of the quiet halls that led to the gardens.

"Valentine?" she called after him quietly.

She'd follow him, because even if she knew better, Helena was always curious. He wasn't far from her, just in one of the darker alcoves along the hall to the garden. Really, very close to the bathrooms, just out of sight. She turned the corner and tilted her head at him. "What are you doing? Trying to bow out of the party already?"

"Trying to behave," he said, leaning against the wall.

She walked closer, still smiling "What for?"

"Because." She was right in front of him now. Could she hear him humming? Or was that just inside his head? He'd spent weeks with this girl. Why was it so different now?

"Because?" she asked, reaching out and touching his arm.

Valentine settled his hands on her waist and Helena leaned into him.

Oh, right. It was different because now he could do the things he couldn't before. He didn't look her in the eye as he said, "You've gotta stop."

"Stop what?"

"Teasing me."

She looked up at him, "I don't know what you mean. I'm not teasing you."

"Yes, you are."

"No," she laughed at him. "I'm not."

They heard steps in the hall, heading to the bathrooms. Valentine figured if he wanted his chance to prove his point, it was now. He turned Helena into the alcove, standing in front of her with her back against the wall. She glanced up at him, the only indication she was surprised being the slight grasp of her hands on the front of his shirt.

Valentine leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. His thumbs traced circles on her hips and Helena glanced at his mouth.

The door shut to the bathroom and Valentine took Helena's hands, pulling her away from the wall slightly before spinning her around, crossing her arms across her chest as he pulled her back to his front.

She laughed quietly and Valentine took both of her wrists in one of his hands, leaving the other free to skim up her arm towards her collar. Her laughter faded.

"It's not fun, is it?" he asked her, bending his head to speak directly into her ear. He liked that she was shorter than him.

"What's not fun?"

"Having to act normal when someone is doing their best to drive you insane," he said, letting his fingers trail down her arm again, leaving shivers in their wake.

"I don't mean to."

He reached her hip, pulling her back into him. He knew the effect she had on him was obvious, but he was past caring. "Doesn't change a thing. And if you don't want me to thoroughly embarrass you in front of the Queen, the Prime Minister and everyone else of importance, you'll have to behave."

"It's only teasing if I don't follow through later," she said breathlessly, her hand skimming over the back of his. "And I have every intention of following through."

The bathroom door opened and Valentine paused, breathing harder than he should have. Both of them held their breath; they didn't want to be caught doing…well, nothing very exciting to the outside observer. But he wasn't an outside observer. Helena's heartbeat fluttered in her neck and he couldn't resist. He pressed his mouth to her skin, feeling the tremor against his lips. Helena's hand gripped the back of his hard and she leaned back into him. He swallowed and stepped back from her as the person from the restroom entered the ballroom again.

Helena turned around, her face a little flushed. He couldn't help smirking at her. She rolled her eyes and he stepped back to let her go first. She took two steps, then turned and pushed him back against the wall, following him. She leaned up and his arms were around her waist before his rational thought could even attempt a token defense.

Her lips were warm and matched up with his perfectly. Valentine could taste cinnamon and the tang of ink as she tangled her hands in his coat, pulling him down even as she pressed up. One of his hands spayed across her lower back, drawing her in closer, their hips fusing together. This was probably not the best place to be kissing the world's Creator, but he didn't really care at that moment. All he cared about was the weight of her against his chest, her skin underneath his fingers, her teeth dragging along his lip.

Vaguely, he realized that he was going to be getting himself into a lot of trouble with this girl and he couldn't care less.

She pulled away so suddenly that Valentine's head followed hers for a few inches. She slipped out of his grasp and danced down the hallway back to the ballroom. He stayed against the wall for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Helena turned mid stride and grinned at him.

"Now that? That was teasing," she said.

Valentine stared after her, waiting until the door shut behind her before he let out his air in a huff and let his head fall back against the wall.

"She is an awful, awful girl."

* * *

Helena held the broom tightly as Mags tried to pull it away.

"But-"

"No," Mags cut in. "Go to bed. The mess will still be here tomorrow."

"Not if I clean it up now," she pointed out.

"Argh," Mags said, dropping the broom. "Juggler, can you handle this?"

Valentine, from his place leaning against the door, shrugged. "She doesn't listen to me."

Helena glared at him, an exasperated smirk on her face.

"It'll be just as much work tomorrow, but after some sleep," he said.

With a sigh, Helena dropped the broom. "Fine. We'll start this tomorrow. Everyone head to bed. You all deserve a good night's rest."

They all said their goodnights and filed off to bed. Helena and Valentine walked towards the side door and across the grass towards the Tower.

It was cool, but the stars were out and a silver glow was cast over the short distance to the Tower. Neither one of them spoke, but Helena found that her heart pounded harder the closer they got.

Valentine opened the door for her and then shut it behind him with a click that seemed to echo through the room. They left the lights off as they walked through the kitchen and living room and up the stairs. Helena got to her bedroom door and walked in, putting the notebook she had carried around most of the evening on her nightstand.

Helena didn't turn around, but she knew that Valentine had followed her in. She was nervous. This wasn't making out in the hallway before someone caught them. They were alone and they were both adults and she knew what she wanted, but she didn't realize it would feel so…intimidating. She felt a breath on the back of her neck.

"See, Helena-na…I don't know what to do," he murmured.

"About what?" she asked him.

"You."

She was going to turn around, but Valentine touched her shoulder and kept talking. "You, with your disgusting face, and your magic paper…you turn everything upside down. I knew what to do before you showed up here. I knew who I was. And then you walked in on your horrible bunny torture devices and saved the world, and made everything change."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't apologize," he mumbled, his breath brushing across her shoulder.

"I'm not a Valentine, that's your rule." Helena had to keep talking to keep her head. Between the dancing and the clothes and his accent and how close he was...

He chuckled and the noise went straight to her head. She leaned back and Valentine let his hands rest on her shoulders. He took one deep breath before vanishing.

Helena spun, already on the defensive that he was trying to leave again, only to see him standing a few feet away, juggling a set of three balls in the air.

Not exactly what she had been expecting.

He added in three more from pockets she hadn't even known that she drew. Then he tossed three to her. She caught them and stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"This, my beautiful regent, is called juggling," Valentine said.

Helena rolled her eyes. "Why are we juggling now?"

"It's always a good time to juggle." He did a simple circuit and then looked at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Go on, then." Valentine was smirking a little and Helena felt she was missing out on the joke. "Juggle."

Helena did the same thing he had done, a simple round with the orbs, catching them easily.

"Very good," he commented. He added a fourth ball to the air and had Helena mimic him again. She was rusty, but she could manage it.

They had done this several times, before he wanted her to juggle six with one hand. It took a lot of concentration and Helena hadn't practiced as much as she should have.

She dropped one and sighed.

"That's one," Valentine said.

"What?"

"Piece of clothing."

"...what?"

"You dropped. You lost the round."

"We're playing strip juggling?!"

He smirked, "I'm playing. You're losing."

Oh, it was _on_.

She glared at him and bent over, slipping off one shoe and kicking it to the side.

Valentine watched her, that arrogant smirk still on his face.

"Just wait," Helena said, straightening and staring at him. "You'll pay for that."

"I'm sure I will."

Helena threw herself into the game, pushing herself farther than she thought she could go. She got Valentine on a one legged, one handed juggle. He wavered and the ball hit the floor. Valentine stared at it for a minute before shrugging. He unbuttoned his coat and Helena found herself following his fingers. Winning had multiple advantages.

He tossed the coat onto the bed and faced her. The coat had hidden the definition, but with only the gray shirt...Helena swallowed.

They started getting more creative, throwing in more than just juggling. He got her on being able to balance three juggling balls on top of one another. She got him on being able to walk on her hands and doing a backflip.

It was amazing how far he could get her to push herself. She always had to strive to do better around him, without him ever pressuring her.

When he kicked off his second shoe, she realized that Valentine had an advantage.

"I have less clothes than you," she commented, realizing that now that both her shoes were gone, and she'd refused to wear stockings, that left her with very few options.

"Convenient, isn't it?" he smirked. He'd lost both shoes now, leaving him in his socks, shirt and trousers, plus whatever he was wearing under that. "Your move."

Helena was done playing nicely. She juggled a simple circuit and Valentine watched her with narrowed eyes, obviously confused why she was doing such an easy move. Then she started walking forward towards him.

He stayed still, even when she was within inches of him. She switched to just one hand, leaving her right hand free. And then she started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

He stared down at her, barely breathing as she worked her way down. Helena didn't meet his eyes until she reached the last button. Then she glanced up at him and smirked. He inhaled and didn't move again, even when she threw the balls behind her and did a 180 degree spin and walked back to the other side of the room.

She caught them and took a breath before turning back around. Valentine was staring at her, his shirt hanging open.

Helena put her hand on her hip after he didn't move for a second. "Can you do it, Valentine? Or do I win by default?"

He started juggling and Helena felt her heart speed up. She loved juggling, but now there was a whole new level to it that she was never going to forget. The look on Valentine's face as he walked towards her, with ninety percent of his attention on her and still managing to make the juggling look effortless.

He got to her and walked around to her back. He muttered something under his breath when he saw that the buttons went all the way down to the floor. She laughed, then felt the pull at the top of her dress as he undid the very top button. The movements continued down her spine a few inches.

She didn't know what tipped her off, but Helena glanced over her shoulder and saw that Valentine had stopped juggling at some point to use both hands.

"Cheater!" she cried, turning and grabbing his hands. "You lose."

He spun and twisted to free his wrists, but she had him tightly, grinning as she shouted at him. "Come on, Valentine! I demand you pay up! Even though I'm sure Valentines are above paying their debts!"

Valentine laughed, actually out right laughed. Not out of anger, or to hide something, or sarcastically. He laughed like he had before any of this had happened. Before Princesses and wars and dreams.

Helena kissed Valentine. Not out of anger or fear, or a bet or a fight. Just...to kiss him. She let go of his wrists and let her hands rest on his chest, over his shirt. Completely innocent.

He put his hands on her hips, not pulling or pushing, just placed on her hips. When she drew back, Helena could see that something had changed between them.

Valentine was smiling, with no agenda or guilt. Helena felt relaxed, like she didn't have to be on guard with him any longer. Like they were both finally who they wanted to be.

She smiled, "Hi."

"Hullo."

"I missed you," she said quietly.

"I missed you, too."

Helena smiled and kissed him again, spearing her fingers through his hair and tugging him down closer to her. He followed willingly, his tongue edging out to taste her. His arms wrapped tighter around her waist, pulling her closer as he walked her backwards. When the back of her knees hit the bed, she sat down. Valentine planted his fists on either side of her, looming over her. He kissed her again, but it was gentler, then he kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, her chin. When he stopped, he rested his forehead on hers, both of them breathing a little faster.

"Helena-na."

She smiled, "Yeah?"

"If I were to say something romantic, it would reflect my feelings in this matter," he whispered.

"I know, juggler," she answered. With his actions and his eyes and the words he did say, she knew he felt the words he wouldn't say. But, with all things Valentine, Valentine's don't admit that they lo-

"On an unrelated note, I love you," he breathed out.

She smiled and he grinned back at her. "If I tell you I love you, too, will you think I'm crazy?"

"Yes, I expect so," he retorted easily, dropping his lips to her neck.

She let her head drop back and her eyes flutter closed. "I'm never going to look at juggling the same again," she mumbled.

He chuckled, making her shiver. Wanting more, Helena grabbed the edges of his shirt and pulled him down to the bed with her. He let her, falling to Helena's side, rather than on top of her. She wasted no time in finding his mouth again, her fingers dancing across his chest and back, tracing over the scars she was now familiar with, but with a far different intent than healing them.

Valentine's hands wrapped around her back and she knew he was working on the unfinished buttons of her dress. When he got down to her waist, she pushed him away slightly and he flinched away from her as if burned. "I didn't…I'm sorr-"

Helena realized what he may have thought and paused, holding his face between her hands and cutting him off with a kiss. "Stop. It's okay. No need to be sorry." She stepped away and let the dress slip off, pooling around her feet.

Valentine propped himself up on his elbows and stared. Helena, who had spent most of her life in skin tight outfits in front of hundreds of people including her family and closest friends, found that she was blushing.

He cleared his throat and spoke quietly, "You know how, when you truly want something, more than you've wanted anything, you build it up in your head and in your dreams? Then, when you finally get the real thing, it's a bit of a disappointment?"

Helena crossed her arms, in an effort to cover herself and not reveal how self-conscious she was. "Yeah."

"That isn't what's happening now."

She rolled her eyes and he sat up, grabbed her wrists and pulling her on top of him. "You are not a disappointment, Helena-na."

"Well, good," she breathed as his fingers danced all over her skin. She used the opportunity of him sitting up to push his shirt off of his shoulders, throwing it to the floor. His body was all muscle and hard angles beneath her, holding her tightly and kissing her until her breath came in short pants. His own breathing still sounded too controlled for her liking, so she pushed him down to the bed, sitting low on his hips. The tickle on her shoulders told her that her hair was coming out of place, but with the way Valentine was looking at her, it didn't matter one bit.

She leaned over to kiss him deeply as his clever fingers ghosted over his knees, her thighs, her waist, looking for a place to hold onto. Taking the innate directions her body was giving her, Helena rolled her hips against Valentine's, getting a groan and a tightened grip on her in response.

His eyes opened and latched onto her as his movements paused. He blinked once or twice, still focused on her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her fingers dancing over his arms.

He breathed out slowly, "Usually this is the part where I wake up."

"This isn't a dream, Valentine," she whispered, kissing his neck and his shoulders.

He held onto her all the tighter, as if she was going to vanish like smoke. "But I've wished for this for so long, and you know that we often confuse what we wish for with what is and I don't want to wake up."

"This is one of those times where what you wish for is actually true, then," she told him. "And I'll keep reminding you of that all night if I have to."

He seemed surprised, then smirked, "That sounds like a challenge."

"It is," she retorted, her lips curving up. "Can you keep up with me, manager?"

He flipped them on the bed and leaned over her. "Oh, my dear regent, I do believe I can."

Valentine kissed her again and again, rising admirably to her challenge.

* * *

The moon was still up, lighting up Helena's bedroom just enough.

They were lying in bed while Valentine touched her face. He seemed to love doing that. Watching her face move into different expressions, touching her cheeks, her nose, around her eyes. He just seemed amazed by it.

"I know sometimes you're sad because you're far away from your parents and friends," he said quietly. "But there's no place I'd rather you be than right here. With me. Your manager."

She turned her face into his shoulder. "I love you, my very important man."

"Of course, as you should."

She laughed and he wrapped his arms around her. She had sighed and closed her eyes to sleep before she heard him very quietly say, "I love you, Helena."

She reached up and touched the curve of his mask, finding his mouth on her first try.

* * *

Valentine woke up in the middle of the night, a whisper of air against him startling him out of sleep. He reached out for Helena, but found only sheets that were still faintly warm. It was dark and he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his own heart. "Helena?" he asked quietly.

She didn't answer.

He leaned over to the nightstand, turning on the light.

The bed was empty. Her things were still piled up in the corner, _A Really Useful Book_ tucked into them between her jacket and his robe. Her notebook was on the nightstand, along with her pencils. She wouldn't have left without that. The Princess was gone and there was no one else mad enough to take Helena on, especially not without waking him up. That meant there was only one option left.

Valentine swallowed, still staring at the empty bed. "Right. Of course. Should've seen that one coming."

He grabbed his robe from the floor and pulled it on, leaving the silent and empty room behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! But it had to happen! Don't hate me, keep going!


	28. Couldn't hurt too much to try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the MirrorMask, their characters, settings, or anything else of value.
> 
> Chapter titles are taken from the song 'If I Apologised' by Dave McKean, Neil Gaiman, and Iain Ballamy.

Helena edged out of sleep slowly, her body aching, but in the best kind of way. She smiled without opening her eyes, rolling onto her side and reaching out. Her fingers hit a piece of cold metal instead of Valentine, rocking her out of her daze.

She blinked slowly, trying to figure out what was happening. Seeing empty white walls and the smell of antiseptic making her head ache, Helena frowned, sitting up slowly.

This wasn't her room. And the bed wasn't her bed. And it was definitely missing someone else.

There were needles sticking out the back of her hand. Had something happened to her last night? Was she back in the City of Light for some illness? Helena ripped out the needles, ignoring the beeping that began and tried to get someone's attention. "Valentine?" she croaked, her throat sore from disuse. Had it been more than a day or two? She couldn't remember anything.

"Look who's finally up!" someone said from the door.

Helena glanced at the woman and froze. Her face was warm and friendly, looking over Helena with a practiced eye, her smile spreading across red cheeks. Helena could see every inch of it, because this woman wasn't wearing a mask.

She wasn't in the City of Shadow.

She was home.

Past of her was happy, glad she was about to see her mother and father again. But the far larger and louder part was screaming that Valentine was gone. She'd left him alone, without so much as a warning.

Helena took in a breath, trying to quell the storm that was starting in her chest. "What happened?" she asked quietly, hoping that her shaking voice could be passed off as weakness.

"You were in a pretty bad accident, honey. In a coma for weeks. We were starting to think you'd never come out of it."

"My parents?" Helena whispered.

"They're fine, dear. You got the brunt of it. They're down in the cafe, I'll send someone down for them. I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see you awake!" The nurse left, leaving Helena alone in the hospital room.

Her parents were here and safe. She'd see them in just a moment. But the thought didn't calm her. She was stuck here. Without the Mask. Without a way back. Without Valentine.

They thought that her subdued nature and quiet responses were because of exhaustion and confusion.

As Helena underwent more tests during the next few days, they thought the night terrors were because of the accident and the coma.

But really, whenever Helena went to sleep, she could see Valentine, just beyond her reach. And she could never stretch far enough to touch him. There were no dreams by the Pool for her to explain herself. No feelings or inklings or books.

She kept hoping – and feeling guilty – that the next time she fell asleep, the next time she opened her eyes, she'd be back with him. But she never was.

By the time Helena was cleared to go home, she'd recovered from one coma and willingly entered into another, emotional one, if only to hide it from her parents.

The first night in her own bed, she hoped that she'd wake up in the MirrorWorld, it didn't matter where, so long as she was there and could get to him.

The next morning, still too early for the sun to be fully up, found Helena sitting at her window with dark circles under her eyes and her hand pressed against the glass.

"Please," she whispered for the hundredth time. "Please, let me back in."

* * *

"This is your doing, isn't it?" the Librarian shouted at Valentine.

Unsurprised, Valentine just stared blankly at the Librarian. He probably deserved this. Just like he deserved being alone again.

He was in the kitchen, the Librarian and Drag tearing into him. It was almost nothing compared to the Queen's quiet, teary questions, though she had been far less confrontational about it. Valentine stood in the center of the room as they questioned him, though it felt more like accusations rather than actual questions.

"I can't believe they trusted you!" he raved, glaring at Valentine. "You were a traitor before and you're a traitor now!"

He advanced on Valentine, who stood completely still as the Librarian shoved him.

"You should have hung when-"

"That's enough!"

Valentine frowned, turning to see who belonged to such an out of place remark.

Mags stood in the door, her arms crossed as she advanced on them, "You keep your hands to yourself, Librarian, before I start getting physical."

"Second," Drag snapped, the first thing he'd said since Valentine had been brought in here. "You're out of line."

"No," Laurel came in after her, followed by Nodd, Finley, Whitt, Rickett, and more of the Shadow Castle crew. "No, you can't come in here making judgments when you don't know him. You haven't seen him here."

"You claim he's changed? In such a short time?" Drag questioned, without the vehemence of his companion.

"Not at all," Mags said. "I'm saying he was always on our side, even when he was forced to work for the enemy. You both knew that, otherwise you would have convicted him."

"This boy's done nothing but help and work his ass off trying to make this a better place," Finley added, standing directly next to Valentine.

Valentine swallowed against the knot in his throat, turning his eyes back towards the Librarian.

"You're just saying that because he's been playing the long game," the Librarian grasped. "This was his plan all along."

"It was his plan to risk his life for Helena?" Valentine nearly flinched when he heard the name, but controlled it. "For us?" Rickett asked. "Look at the evidence, bookworm."

"Fine! Helena, our Creator, has vanished from our world. And the last person to see her was him! He did something to her, he hurt-"

Valentine stepped forward at that, ready to shoot down any accusation that he had hurt her. He had made it right with her and he would _never_ , _**ever**_ -

"He would never hurt her," Laurel snapped. "How dare you say that? To him, of all people. His biggest concern from the get-go was her safety, you idiot. So stop shifting the blame because you don't know the answer. Back off."

"I don't like the guy," Nodd admitted, ignoring the glares Mags and Laurel shot him. Their faces softened as he continued though. "But even I know he'd rather die himself than watch her be hurt. His biggest mistake was taking too long to finally admit it out loud."

"You all so ready to throw away your careers for the sake of a traitor and a murderer?" the Librarian scoffed.

"No," Whitt said, her tiny voice ringing through the room. "For a friend."

Valentine blinked rapidly, her friends gathering around him to protect him. Laurel put her hand on his shoulder, smiling encouragingly at him and he had to amend his thought.

His friends.

 _Look at that, Creator_ , he thought. _You really did change everything_.

Now, just come back and he could call it square.

* * *

Helena tried to smile as her father talked about the circus. She wasn't able to go with them on this upcoming trip, but soon, he kept saying. Soon she'd be back in action, and everything would be just as it was before.

Helena nodded at the appropriate places in her father's speeches, helping him pack for his trip in near silence. Most of the time, she sat in a corner, the new sketchbook from her parents settled in her lap and a pen in her hand.

A week later, her mother came into her room and opened the sketchbook while Helena was sleeping. As she flipped through the first few pages, she frowned, the stark whiteness of the paper clearly proving something was wrong. Helena had been seen with this sketchbook every day for the past week, for hours at a time, but there wasn't a single line in it. Joanne ruffled the pages, hoping for something, anything that would prove her daughter was still the same.

A small, crumpled piece of paper fell out of the notebook and onto the floor. She picked it up, frowning as the spiked hair and the white robe jogged at her memory. It was an old piece of paper, so something Helena had drawn before the accident, but it was also the only thing in the entire notebook.

Placing it back within the white pages, she sighed and stared at her daughter.

"What happened to you, my darling girl?" she whispered, touching Helena's hair.

* * *

Valentine stood at the door to her room, everything almost exactly how she left it the night she vanished. The only thing he had done was straighten up the bed and put her dress over the chair. He hadn't touched anything else at all.

"Valentine?" a voice asked.

He flinched and turned, seeing Mags standing behind him. "I knocked, but you didn't answer."

"Yeah," he said, rubbing his mask. "Sorry, what is it?"

"I spoke to her Majesty and the council. They've decided that until…she returns, you're to be acting regent," she told him.

He stared at her blankly. "What?"

"You're the regent of the Shadow Kingdom," Mags repeated for him. "You're in charge of this place."

"Who in their right mind would put me in charge?" he scoffed, closing her door.

"Well, the Queen suggested moving the Prime Minister here, but there were objections."

"From who?"

"Us. The Shadow crew. We would like you to be in charge," she said firmly. "You were closest with her. You thought like her. You're clever. You understand this place better than most and I think Hel- she would have liked it," Mags caught herself as Valentine flinched.

He thought about it. If he wasn't regent, what would he do? Travel? Run away? How far would he have to run to escape memories? Was it possible? Someone should make something to help with memories – oh, right. Alcohol. He shook his head. Besides, if he ran, he'd have to leave his new…friends. And although the Valentine before him hadn't had much in the way of friends, he was finding that he rather liked the idea.

"Alright," he said quietly. "I'll do it. But nobody calls me regent."

"Yes, sir," Mags saluted, before turning on her heel and heading towards the stairs. She paused at the top, just as Valentine was heading into his room, "Juggler, I'm glad you're staying."

He nodded and closed the door behind him.


	29. It's there beyond the quiet

"Mum, please," Helena tried to smile and calm her mother. "It'll be fine. I'm just meeting some friends for a bite."

"But it's only been a month-"

"It's been a month," Helena repeated, taking her hands. "I've not had an episode or any of the side effects they were worried about. So I think dinner'll be just fine."

"Just be careful," her mother repeated.

Helena nodded and hugged her mother tightly. "I'll be fine, Mum."

Her father was out with the circus, so it was just her and her mother. Helena hadn't wanted to try this without her father around, but she was losing patience. Dreams hadn't pulled her back and she could manage to draw anything, for the life of her. So she had to come up with another way.

Now, on her way out and a letter explaining everything lying on her desk, Helena had time for her real mission. She walked through the alleys, remembering the route, though at the time it felt like a dream. The first place she'd met Valentine, the first time she saw a living shadow.

She kept walking, assured that she would recognize the place once she saw it. After twenty minutes of wandering though, she started to get worried. Luckily, it was right around that point that she saw a sight that twinged in her memory.

Trying to contain her excitement, Helena ran down the alley, looking for the faint crack that signified the door that led to her world. Her home. Relishing in the fact that she finally admitted it, she searched for the door that would take her where she belonged.

When her fingers failed to find the seam, Helena tried to keep from realizing the truth, but it was staring her in the face. She held her breath and stepped back.

There was no door.

Desperate now, she grabbed the pen from her pocket and scraped a door-shaped mark on the wall, adding a circle for a handle, the stepped back, closing her eyes.

"Please," she whispered into the darkness, "Please."

When she opened her eyes, Helena's heart sunk as her drawing remained just that – a drawing.

When she came home, her mother saw her face and bit her lip. Helena decided to save her the trouble, "You were right. I'm still too tired. I'm just going to crash, okay?"

"Love you, Helena," her mum said.

"I love you too," Helena responded. Her voice sounded rather lifeless, but she couldn't inject anything more. She'd finally realized where she was meant to be and the chance to go had been taken from her.

Slipping into her room, Helena grabbed the letter and tore it up. She had read and reread it a thousand times before leaving it. It was perfect. And useless.

Helena sat at her mirror and pressed her palm on the glass. But no matter how much she pressed, pleaded, begged, cried, or swore, she was stuck on this side.

* * *

"And that should be the last of it," Laurel said, wiping her face.

Valentine packed the last few vials into a crate and shut it. "Fantastic. We'll send that over to the Librarian and let him deal with all this nonsense."

He stood up, brushing off his hands. Twelve crates were filled of the contents of the South Tower, finally being taken out of the Shadow Castle and sent to someone who actually wanted to deal with it.

"With any luck," Fin said, hefting the last crate over towards the others, "this whole mess will fall on that pompous dandy's head."

Valentine glanced at him with a frown.

"Bront. The guy's about as useful as a wooden fan in a forest fire," Fin elaborated.

Valentine chuckled and double-checked the room, pretending not to see the reactions of the others. "So, who wants to take Bandy and the cart to the City of Light?"

Only one hand went up and Valentine nodded, "Rickett. Feel free to take what you need from the pantry and set off tomorrow. We'll take these down now."

They all grabbed crates, leaving Valentine with just one to carry down. He headed down last, shutting the tower door behind him and falling a bit behind the others. Moving confidently through the castle, he couldn't help but pause outside a door.

He stared at it, taking a step forward before stopping and shaking his head. "You don't need another disappointment, juggler," he muttered to himself.

Then he grabbed the handle and stepped inside anyway.

A month's worth of dust lay over the room, this one not being one of the ones he made an effort to keep clean. The cot was still as rickety and small as ever. The window still had bars over it. And the mirror…

Valentine placed his crate on the bed, then crouched in front of the mirror. The glass was dark. He tapped it, cleaned the dust off it, stared into it for what must have been close to an hour, but it never changed.

"Come on," he mumbled. "Just one look to know she's okay. Please."

The glass remained just a piece of glass.

His head hung and he squeezed his eyes closed.

"Valentine?"

He looked over, seeing Whitt in the doorway. He stood and grabbed the crate, heading towards her before she could come in. "Yeah."

"Nodd fell. Broke his arm."

"Course he did. Patch him up and put him on rest for a few days. I'll have Laurel fix the schedule," Valentine said quickly. He had his hand on the handle when she spoke again.

"Did you see…?"

"No."

The door slammed shut.

* * *

"Helena?"

"Yeah?" Helena answered her mother, closing the still empty sketchbook.

She came into Helena's room, smiling. "Are you busy?"

"Nope, what's up?"

Sitting at Helena's desk, she eyed the pictures that circled the mirror, so similar to the one she'd seen in her notebook. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Sure," Helena said, sitting up on her bed. She waited, but Joanne was still staring at the drawings. "Mum?"

"You know," she began, "I used to think these were of Andrew. But they've been around much longer than him."

Helena's smile felt fixed, but she didn't let it vanish completely.

"He's the boyfriend I dreamed up for you, isn't he?" she asked, laughing. The laughter faded when she turned to see that Helena's face, despite her best efforts, had turned pale and her mouth was twisted up.

"Mum…" Helena whispered uselessly.

Knowing what needed doing, her mother didn't need to hear another word. She crossed the room and held Helena in her arms, "Tell me."

"You won't believe me," Helena mumbled.

She pulled her daughter back to stare into her eyes, "Just try me, Helena Campbell."

Helena took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "When you were…sick last year, I had a dream. I met a man. A juggler, named Valentine…"

* * *

"No, it's not fine," Laurel whispered.

"He doesn't want to talk about it and I think we should respect that," Nodd argued.

Finley shook his head, "He's driving himself insane."

"How can you tell?" Mags muttered.

Whitt and Laurel glanced at her, irritated. Then Laurel started in, "You know what Whitt's been seeing, we've all seen it, too. He works himself ragged, he barely sleeps and he's been avoiding any mention of her name since she's vanished. Sure, he's handling it better than when he first got here, but he's just hiding it and he's getting-"

Mags held up her hand, "I get it, I know."

"He seems fine to me." Nodd crossed his arms and avoided the scathing looks his friends were giving him. When the glares grew too much to handle, he sighed, "Fine, but what do you suggest we do about it?"

"We figure out a way to get her back," Mags said. "She belongs here."

"Did you ever think that maybe she's happy being back with her family?" Nodd said, his tone not confrontational as before. "Maybe she doesn't want to come back?"

"No," Laurel said shortly. "I know her. And she's wanted Valentine since she's met him, she'll not want to give him up now."

Whitt was quieter, as she usually was when Rickett was away, but she still added her thoughts to the conversation, "Queen."

Mags nodded, "She's been rooting for those two since the beginning. I'll contact her. Drag, too. They'll help."

Laurel started, "We should-"

Valentine poked his head into the kitchen, "Laurel, do you have next week's schedule?'

She nodded, unconsciously shifting away from her fellow conspirators. "Yes, sir. All set and ready to go."

"And Nodd's been removed from doing anything even remotely difficult?"

Nodd glared at him, though his cast made any argument pointless.

Laurel smiled, "Yup."

"Good," he said. He eyed the group of them for a moment, then shook his head. "'Night."

They murmured goodnights in return, the kitchen door clicking shut behind him. The table was silent for a good ninety seconds before -

"Are you certain we shouldn't tell him?" Fin asked.

Laurel nodded, but it was Nodd who answered.

"Can you imagine what he'd do if he knew and it didn't work?"

The group fell silent, each of them wondering how they were going to bring their Creator back into their world.

And trying to figure out when the juggler had become such an important part of it.

* * *

"Well, sweetie," Joanne started, "that is…quite the tale."

Helena rolled her eyes, "I know. And you don't believe me."

"Did I say that?" she cut in.

Helena stared at her mother, then frowned, "So you do?"

"I…" she trailed off, then glanced at the pictures again, "I might not have, but I've seen him, too."

"When you were sick," Helena recalled.

"Yes, and another time."

That was news to her. Helena straightened up, "What?"

"When you were in the coma," she said quietly. "I spent most nights at hospital with you. One night, I had a dream. It was the same place I had seen you last time. With the fountain and the empty landscape."

"The Pool of Dreams," Helena supplied, curious.

"I was there, and so was he. Your juggler. He told me you were alright, safe with friends and good people." She chuckled slightly, "I remember asking why you weren't with him, if he was your boyfriend after all. He said that he wasn't, and that he wasn't a good person."

Helena stared at her comforter, picking at the threads and trying not to interrupt her mother. It sounded like him.

"I made him promise me that he would look after you, no matter what. Because you deserved better than what you had, being sick in my world. And he said he'd look after you, keep you safe, do what's best," Joanne said, her eyes unfocused. "I was so anxious to make sure you were safe that I didn't quite realize what he was promising until after I woke up, but I think he meant to stay away from you, because he thought he wasn't good enough."

Helena felt her eyes burning, but she couldn't muster up the energy to cry any longer. He made a promise to her mother - that was why he'd been so stubborn about everything. Why he'd put himself on trial, why he tried to keep away from her, but still looked after her. He was always looking after her, even when she didn't know it.

Helena's fingers landed on her drawing, the one her mother had asked her to pull out when Helena first described him. He looked different now, but he was still the same man.

Her mother was quiet for a moment, then she cleared her throat and addressed her daughter, "So, now that that's all cleared up, what are you going to do about it?"

"Mum," Helena said quietly, "I told you. I've tried to go back, but I can't. I'm shut out and I don't...I can't get back there."

"Helena, if you let 'can't's stop you when you were a little girl, you never would have juggled. You never would have started on the tightrope. You never would have begun drawing. Can't is just an excuse so you don't have to try," she told her.

"But I have tried, and-"

"So try again," Joanne cut her off. "And keep trying until you get what you want."

Helena met her mother's eyes for a moment, remembering that this was a woman who'd started a circus, raised a child, handled the expenses for an entire troupe, starred in a circus, beat cancer and was still going strong.

"If I get back," Helena said quietly, "I may never be able to come here again. Not without the MirrorMask and I don't know if I can get it and…"

Joanne's face tremored briefly, "I know, love. But let's be honest, your imagination always was too big for this world."

"I love you, Mum."

Joanne passed her hand over Helena's hair. "I've always known that. And I love you, too. So let's get you back to your juggler."

* * *

Valentine wasn't entirely pleased when Rickett returned a few weeks later with a few extra guests.

"Your Majesty," he said, helping the Queen out of the carriage. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Hardly a pleasure, Valentine," she smiled tightly, indicating who was with her.

Valentine frowned when he saw Bront, but didn't say anything.

"We're here because there is a rumor that not everything from the South Tower made it to the City of Light," the Queen summarized as Bront approached.

"Feel free to investigate," Valentine said. "But I assure you that we picked up everything and sent it to you."

The Queen smiled, "Of course. Would you mind terribly escorting Bront to the tower?" She leaned in when Valentine's frown grew larger. "It's been a long trip and I find myself needing a moment alone."

Valentine nodded, gesturing for Bront to follow him.

The Queen waited until he was out of sight, then glanced at Rickett. "Where're Mags and the others?"

"Follow me."

When the Queen entered the kitchen, the conspirators jumped to their feet and bowed.

"Please," the Queen said, waving them to their seats. "No need for that."

"Did you bring it? Your Majesty," Laurel added, her excitement making her too eager for titles.

"Of course, though the Librarian wasn't entirely pleased when he heard what we were planning." She continued when the faces looked ready to argue, "Not that it stopped me. So, where's the mirror?"

"We'll show you," Mags said, waving at Lauren. "The rest of you, keep himself busy in the tower. Don't let him down that hallway."

Fin, Whitt, and Nodd assented, and they exited the kitchen.

The Queen's smile was bright and Mags couldn't help but comment, "You seem to be enjoying yourself, Majesty."

"Oh," she flushed. "Well, it's been a while since I was involved in something secret. It's quite enjoyable."

Laurel smiled, reaching the door first and opening it. Mags waved her inside, "I'll keep watch out here."

"You sure it should be me?" Laurel asked.

Mags nodded. "You're the least likely to be picked out in Helena's world, and the one of the few willing to take the risk."

Laurel and the Queen slipped inside the room and the Queen pulled a glimmering, reflective Mask out from her robes.

Laurel stared at it for a moment before giving herself a shake. "Right, so I'll pop through, find Helena and get her to come back here using the Mask," she summarized.

"It may take some time," the Queen warned her. "We don't know where she is or what she's doing. So you may have to return without her, leaving the Mask there. Helena did it once before, so she should know how."

Laurel nodded and took the MirrorMask in her hands. "Right."

"Be careful."

Turning to face the mirror that had connected to Helena's world for so long, Laurel pressed the MirrorMask to her face, focused her thoughts on her Creator, and leaned into the glass.

There was the sound of shattering and Laurel vanished.

* * *

"Gah," Helena shouted, throwing the paper to the ground. "I can't do it!"

"Helena…" her mother started. She'd put down the book she was reading and sat forward on her chair.

"No, Mum. I've tried everything. New mirrors, new MirrorMasks, doorways, messages, nothing's getting through. On this side, my drawings are just pen and paper. It's there that they become real, where I'm actually the Creator. Here, I'm just…a girl who spends too much time drawing," she trailed off. "It's been months now," Helena said quietly. "Maybe it's time to call it."

"I don't accept that," Joanne said firmly. "You got there. Three times, now. You can do it again. Just try something new."

"But Mum-"

"No, Helena. We are getting you back to where you belong and that's final!"

"Oh?" said a surprised voice from the door. "And where might she belong that isn't here?"

Joanne spun, seeing her husband standing in the door, a bag at his feet, "Morris. You're back." She crossed the room and hugged him tightly.

Morris patted his wife on the back, "Yeah, I'm back. Now what was all the shouting about?"

"It was nothing, just-"

"Don't lie, Joanne. You were always a terrible liar," Morris frowned. When Joanne hesitated, he glanced at his daughter. "Helena?"

She stared helplessly at her mother. Convincing her had been one thing, Joanne had seen some of the MirrorWorld. Her father was far more grounded in his ways. She didn't know how to explain it so he'd believe –

Her mirror shattered on her bureau, drawing their attention. Helena jumped up from her bed, her heart tight in her throat.

"Helena!" her father shouted, holding out his hand to her, "Get away from that! The glass…"

He trailed off as a figure appeared in the mirror – then crawled out onto the top of her dresser.

Helena couldn't help the surge of disappointment as it wasn't a juggler hopping to her floor, but still she ran forward and embraced the arrival.

"Laurel!" she shouted, holding the soldier tightly.

Laurel grinned widely, "Well, that went better than expected. Here's to seeing you, Creator!"

Joanne had covered her hand with her mouth, an expression of shock and surprise frozen on her face. Morris had yet to pick up his jaw off the floor.

"How did you get here?" Helena exclaimed.

"The Mask," Laurel said, pulling it forward as she stepped out of the embrace. "The Queen brought it and we decided we'd just come and get you." She glanced and saw her parents standing in the corner of the room, "That is, if you want to come back."

Helena glanced at her shocked father. "Dad, maybe you should sit down."

"Sit down?! That girl just came out a mirror!" he shouted, still holding tightly to his wife.

"Yeah. This is Laurel, a Guard of the City of Light, and my friend. She's from the MirrorWorld which…which I created," Helena started.

Morris stared at her for five seconds, then mumbled, "Maybe I should sit down."

Helena gestured for Laurel to take a seat, then started all over again, "When Mum was sick…"

* * *

Valentine was tired of Bront.

He was tired of his face. His attitude. His veiled insults that Valentine wasn't a good regent. His not-so-veiled insults that she had left because of something he'd done.

In fact, Valentine was so tired of it, that he was beginning to get angry. Very angry. But he wasn't acting on it yet, because the anger was a nice change from the…nothing he had been feeling these past few months. It was warm and made his heart pound.

Bront was poking around the tower, finding nothing to complain about, but complaining just the same.

"I can't believe how filthy this place is. Of course, you wouldn't notice, right, juggler?"

Valentine ignored that.

"I mean, it's disgusting really. No wonder the Librarian doesn't want to come out here again."

Valentine ignored that.

"Now, the last regent had some taste. Style. She was something amazing."

Valentine ignored that, not that he disagreed.

"With the exception of being with you, obviously. But apparently beauty and brains are mutually exclusive, huh?"

Ah. Now, he couldn't ignore that.

Valentine stepped in Bront's way, startling the man. He was about Valentine's height, so his attempt to use his stature to his advantage didn't do much.

"For the last time, there is clearly nothing here that was overlooked, so let's set you on your way, shall we?" Valentine said. He grabbed Bront's arm and propelled him towards the door.

"What are you – get your hands off of me! I'm the Librarian's Assistant and -"

Valentine's fingers ground harder into Bront's arm as he growled out, "And I'm the regent of the Shadow Kingdom. Seems like I've got the authority here, mate."

"The Queen will see you hanged for this, you traitorous dog! She should have-"

"Oh, indeed, carry on with that statement," the Queen drawled from behind them. "I'm ever so curious to see what you think I should have done."

Valentine turned, but still didn't let go of Bront. The Queen, Finley, Stayne, and Rickett stood in the hallway.

"Your Majesty," Bront began, "this juggler-"

"Regent," Fin interrupted.

Bront's tone wavered, "This man threatened me with bodily harm and tried to have me escorted from the building."

"Now, that doesn't sound like the Valentine I know," the Queen said.

Bront's eyes lit up as he glared at Valentine, victory written all over his features.

Then she added, "So what did you do to provoke him?"

Bront blanched, "What?"

"I asked what you did to deserve such a response."

"I…I…"

"Made disparaging remarks about the former regent," Valentine supplied for him.

As the faces in the hall turned hostile, Bront began to babble.

The Queen cut him off, "I had my doubts about your placement from the beginning. It's nice to see I haven't quite lost my edge. You will be removed from office upon our return to the City of Light. Until then, you will remain in your room until I say otherwise."

She turned to Rickett, "Do you think you could post a guard outside his door?"

"No guards, ma'am. How about a Bandersnatch?" he suggested.

Bront would have fallen had Valentine not been holding him upright.

"Oh, that sounds lovely," the Queen said. "Would you mind escorting him to a convenient room?"

"My pleasure, ma'am." Rickett marched down the hall and took Bront out of Valentine's care. "Sir."

"Rickett," Valentine nodded.

As Bront vanished, so did Valentine's anger. When the Queen approached, he opened his mouth to explain the situation. The Queen cut him off before he began. "Please, I've been looking to get rid of him ever since the Librarian hired him. You did me a favor."

Valentine nodded, still not entirely convinced.

"Um, Your Majesty?" Mags called from behind the Queen. Laurel stood by her side, smiling.

"Excuse me," the Queen said to Valentine. "I'll see you at dinner."

Curiosity bloomed slightly within Valentine's chest, but he ignored it and turned his back on the three women, choosing instead to go downstairs and begin sorting through the new supplies.

* * *

Morris stared after Laurel as she went back through the mirror, the MirrorMask falling into Helena's hands.

"So you're telling me, that you created an entire world?"

Helena nodded.

"And you were there the entire time you were asleep?"

Another nod.

"And you met a boy there who you are going back there for? Who we've never met and know nothing about?" Morris said.

"Dad," Helena said quietly. "He's the best person I know. He risked his life to save me and the entire world. During the war, he went through so much pain, but never stopped fighting for the right side, it was all his doing that we won at all. He's clever and funny and – and he's such a good juggler," she grinned tearfully. "He makes me better. We're better together."

Joanne was smiling, sitting on the edge of Morris' chair and touching his shoulder.

Helena got up and hugged her father tightly. "I love him. And he loves me."

Morris held her close for a long time. "Bambino…"

She squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing what was coming next.

"I suppose it…it figures that you would fall for a juggler," he said, pressing a kiss onto her head.

"Runs in the family," Joanne said from his shoulder, wiping Helena's cheek when she raised her head.

Morris met his daughter's eyes, a girl that seemed so out of this world that she belonged in another. "Be-before you go," he said, pretending his voice didn't break, "there's a few things I'd like to put together for you first."

Helena held the MirrorMask tightly and nodded. "Of course, Dad. Anything."

* * *

A few hours, many tears, and a fair amount of laughter later, Helena stood in her bedroom, a backpack on her shoulders and a Mask in her hands.

She put it down to face her parents, though.

"Oh," Morris said, "almost forgot." He pulled out her favorite set of juggling balls, the ones she had learned to juggle on, and handed them to her. "You hold onto these, alright?"

Helena nodded and tucked them into her jacket pocket, her heart already aching from the emotions of the day. "I will."

"And you'll do everything you can to get these mirrors working both ways to speak through, right?" Joanne asked.

"I promise, Mum. And if not, I think the Queen won't mind me using the MirrorMask to hop back and forth," Helena said, glancing at the Mask in question.

"Well, next time you'd best bring that boy with you," Morris said.

"I will," Helena promised.

Morris shook his head and held his arms open, "Come here, Bambino."

Helena ran into her father's arm, feeling her mother wrap around both of them. "I love you," Helena told them.

"We know," Joanne said quietly. "We love you, too."

"Always, Bambino."

She pulled back only when they let go. She turned and picked up the MirrorMask, glancing at her parents once more.

Joanne was crying openly, but with a smile on her face. Morris held her tightly and smiled softly at her.

"Good luck," he said.

Helena grinned and placed the Mask on her face, leaning into the mirror.

* * *

She came through it what had been Valentine's old room, the mirror rattling slightly against the wall as she stepped out of it. Helena looked out the window and saw that the sun had long since set here. She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and walked out of the room. Luckily, she knew this place like the back of her hand, even after the months away and it was a fairly simple task to find the massive staircases that ran through the castle. Helena started jogging down them, skipping several steps at a time. Her heart was pounding so hard her ears were echoing the beat. She got to the second story landing and heard voices below. She was coming out right by the kitchen, just after dinner. Helena grinned and pelted down the stairs, dropping her backpack to go even faster.

There was a man at the bottom of the stairs, on his way towards the kitchen just to the right of the stairwell. Valentine, in his white and burgundy, walked with his hands in his pockets, his head bowed as if he was thinking over some problem. He glanced up the stairs, catching sight of Helena, and then looked back to the kitchen and kept walking, disappearing through the door.

"Valentine!" she called out after him, the word ripping out of her as she saw him vanishing.

The voices in the kitchen fell completely silent, and after a breath she saw a flicker of white at the door. Valentine walked out backwards, followed by Mags, Laurel, the Queen, Whitt, Bront – what was he doing here? – Finlet, and all the rest of the guards, then turned to face her.

She smiled, but he just continued to stare.

Then, he turned away from her, facing the guards, "This is probably the cruelest trick any of you have ever played. And I'm played some cruel tricks."

"Valentine, we didn't-" the Queen started.

"Once, I managed to convince a woman that her missing husband had returned as a sphinx-" he started reminiscing.

"But , she's really-" Fin tried.

"-and it worked for a while, but then things took a turn for the odd when she really started to believe it and dress it up-"

"Not a trick-" Whitt said.

"And then when her husband did return, there was a very ugly fight in which the sphinx somehow ended up with half the house, which I still can't for the life of me understand-"

Laurel stepped up, "But, Helena is-"

"Not. Here," Valentine said, cutting her off. "She's gone."

Helena drew in a breath at the sharpness of his words. It wasn't so much anger as it was pain. She did that to him.

"But...she's there," said Nodd, pointing. "You saw her."

Valentine glanced at her, then back at the others, "Well, that's because I've clearly gone mad. Inevitable, really."

"Then why do I see her?" Laurel asked.

"And me?" Bront added.

"We're all hallucinating," Valentine said. "I bet it was something we ate." He glared at Nodd, who glared right back. "I suggest we all just lie down until it passes and everything goes back to normal."

"But-" Mags tried, glancing at Helena.

Helena looked in her pockets for something - anything that would help prove it. The only thing in her jacket pockets were the juggling balls. She grabbed one and threw it.

The others, still looking at her, all ducked but Valentine never saw it coming. It bounced off the back of his head and he winced, turning around. He stopped the ball with his foot and then bent down to pick it up. Valentine looked up at her, tossing the ball up and down in his hands.

"Can a hallucination juggle?" she asked him, starting to do exactly that as he watched.

"The good ones do," he retorted, "Well, if you call that juggling,"

She glared at him and threw him one, the two of them starting a familiar circuit. He had to work a little harder to get the balls up the stairs, but it wasn't a challenge for him.

Helena watched the colorful spheres pass through the air, feeling more comfortable here, juggling with Valentine than she had ever felt at home. She loved her family, the circus, her room, but she happily traded it all for this, right here.

She looked at him and smiled when he met her gaze. And for the first time since she'd met him, Valentine let an easy catch hit the ground. He was up the stairs before she could stop juggling and when he caught her around the waist, the other two spheres fell to the ground, bouncing to the landing.

She was vaguely aware of the others vanishing back into the kitchen and shutting the door behind them, but she was far more focused on the man holding her face between his hands. He kissed her hard, the edges of his mask biting into her skin. When he broke away, she felt lightheaded, but very clearly heard his ragged voice in her ear, "You left me."

She hugged him, pressing her face in his shoulder, "I know. I didn't mean to. But I'm here now."

"For how long?" he asked, his arms tightening around her. He wasn't telling her not to leave again, not asking her to stay, not asking her to choose between her family and him. He just wanted to be ready for the next time she vanished.

"Forever," Helena said. "I'm here this time, Valentine. I'm not dreaming or a double or in a coma. I'm here. Really. And I'm here to stay."

"But your family, the circus?" he asked her, pulling back to stare at her.

"I'll miss them," she said honestly. "But not as much as I'd miss this life. With you."

"So you're really here to stay?"

Helena tried to say yes, but she only got as far as a nod and a smile before Valentine pulled her in for another kiss. Helena held him tightly.

"I love you, juggler."

"I love you, Helena-na."

And nothing more needed to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find that I miss Valentine and Helena already.
> 
> As always and ever, thanks for reading.


End file.
